Cheerleader Training
by Mmmph
Summary: When Miranda is finally pushed too far by Jack, the two get into a scuffle, and after Jack lays an innocuous slap across Miranda's rear end, it awakens something in the Cerberus Operative that had been dormant for a long, long, time: desire. Rated Mature for BDSM, spanking, sexual content. Jack/miranda. femslash. Cover by CrystaliqEffects.
1. Chapter 1

Miranda knew she was not going to enjoy her day long before Jack ever even opened her mouth. She knew the moment her office doors slid apart to reveal the skinny, tattooed, shaved-headed, woman framed in the doorway, an indignant scowl sketching dark lines into her face and her scrawny, tattooed, arms folded defiantly across her chest. And Miranda _really _knew her day was not going to go well when Jack stomped into the room without bothering to ask permission, draped her forearm across the center of the desk between them, and swept it sideways, clearing the table of half its possessions. They plummeted to the floor beside the desk to mass in a disorderly heap, and Jack's scowl only deepened as she narrowed her eyes on Miranda's.

"Well, where the hell are they!?" She snapped, raising an accusatory finger up and jabbing it in Miranda's direction. "Huh?"

Miranda maintained her composure, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest herself. She sighed and took a moment to maintain her composure before addressing the glowering young woman before her with forced calmness. "Hello, _Jack_. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, don't play stupid with me, cheerleader," Jack growled, barring her teeth and practically biting the word 'cheerleader' in half. "I _know_ you took them, and I want them back. You hear me? I want them back _right now!_"

"Jack, whatever you've had taken from you, I assure you I had nothing to do with it," Miranda explained, honestly clueless as to what the woman was talking about. "Now, I have work to do. If you go and take this up with Commander Shepard, I'm sure-"

"I'm not _going_ anywhere," Jack said, her scowl suddenly shifting to a sneer as she leaned back and shook her head. "I already _asked _Shepard if I could come confront your dumb ass. He wasn't in the mood for it." Her grin widened. "He said it was between you and I, and we have to 'sort things out' for ourselves. So, no. _Hell _no. I'm not leaving this little room of yours until you give me back what you _took_!"

Miranda pinched at her brow; Jack's grating voice was already awakening a headache there. She's been working so hard all day, the stress and tension she'd accumulated was already at its boiling point; Jack, apparently, was the last bit of fire it needed to come boiling over. She pulled a deep breath and humored the loudmouth by asking, "And what exactly is it that I took, Jack?"

"My socks."

Miranda looked up incredulously. "…_Socks_?"

Jack's sneer didn't waver in the slightest. She stood her ground, tapping her fingers impatiently along her outer arm as her eyes bore daggers into Miranda's own.

Miranda sighed; her headache throbbed. "You're in here bothering me over _socks_!?"

"Give 'em back and you won't have to put up with me another second longer."

"I don't-" Miranda nearly shouted her defense of not knowing what the hell Jack was talking about, but thought better of it, cut herself short, and slid her chair back from her desk instead. She stomped back to the dresser beside her bed, slid back the top drawer, and scooped up two handfuls of bunched-up socks. She carried them before Jack and tossed them down on her desk. "_There_. You want socks? Take mine. Take _all _of them, I don't care, just take them and leave me the hell alone already, Jack! I've got work to do, and the last thing I want to hear right now is your big mouth, so take them and _go_."

Jack grimaced. "I don't want your stinking socks!"

"Funny, though, you think for some reason _I _would want _yours_…"

"I don't think you swiped them to _wear_, you idiot, I think you swiped them to mess with me. Mess with me like you always do…"

"Mess with you?"

Jack began pacing the length of the desk back and forth, her hands clenching and unclenching around her arms, her apoplectic glare never leaving Miranda's eyes. "You're always trying to mess with me so I lose my cool and do something stupid and get kicked off the ship. You've been on my ass since day one. Not like I give a crap, anyway. I can handle myself… prissy-ass cheerleader. But I want my shit back. You had no right to come and steal it."

"I didn't steal your stuff!" Miranda snapped, louder than she'd intended, and her temples throbbed.

"Yeah, ya _did_!" Jack retorted.

"Oh my God, _fine_!" Miranda conceded, throwing her arms to her sides. "I stole your stupid socks. Alright? I stole them and I'm keeping them and you can't have them back. There, now get the hell out of my office, Jack, because you're really starting to piss me off."

"Oh, I'm pissing you off? Am I really cheerleader?" Jack asked. She licked her lips. Her eyes lowered to Miranda's computer terminal. A mischievous look crept into the features of her face that Miranda knew all to well: it was the look of a calm before the storm brewing something wicked up in Jack's head.

Miranda shook her head, raising a conciliatory hand. "Jack, please, don't do something-"

Too late.

Jack grabbed the computer and yanked it up to her shoulders, a stream of wires and cables dangling from the terminal's belly as it rocketed out of the desk. She roared and chucked it across the room where it crashed against Miranda's closet, filling the room with shrill clash of shattering glass, and spraying a shower of sparks as the display died and fell to the floor in a bent heap, utterly and entirely useless. Jack stared at her work a moment before turning a satisfied little smirk Miranda's way and raising a brow. "Oops."

Miranda gaped up at her. She was so enraged, she could barely muster a sentence. "I… I can't… you…"

Before she could finish even one of her broken trains of thoughts, the doors to her office slid apart again, and this time it was the asari Justicar, Samara, who stood framed in the doorway. Jack turned to face her and cleared the way for Miranda to glimpse the pale blue eyes of the asari flicking between the two of them.

"I'm… sorry to interrupt," Samara said, casting a bemused look towards the smashed computer terminal against the wall. "I was actually looking for _you_, Jack. Some of your clothing got mixed up with mine." The asari lifted a small bag and handed it off to Jack. "It was likely the new engineer they assigned to laundry duty. It would appear to be an honest mistake."

Jack pried the top open, stuck a hand in, and a moment later had fished out a pair of socks. "Oh…" She glanced Miranda's way. "I… I guess you didn't take my stuff then."

Miranda balled her hands to fists so tightly she could feel her fingernails cutting into her palms.

Jack looked to the disorderly mound she'd created next to Miranda's desk that had once been stacked neatly on its top before flicking a cursory glance over the computer terminal she'd smashed. "Well… I guess I messed up, cheerleader," she said with a nonchalant shrug of her scrawny shoulders. "Shit happens."

And with that, Jack simply turned and sauntered out of the office.

Miranda was on her feet before the words had even left her mouth. "_Jack! _Get the hell back here!" _She didn__'__t even apologize, _Miranda thought as she shuffled around her desk, a warm rush of anger igniting her skin, quickening her heartbeat, putting sweat into the palms of her balled fists. She shouldered past Samara and stomped into the Normandy's third deck. Around the corner where her office was situated, she saw Jack making her way into the mess hall, where the rest of the crew were just gathering and beginning to settle in for lunch. "_Jack!_"

Jack glanced back and rolled her eyes. "Oh, fuck off, cheerleader, it was an accident. I said I messed up."

_Fuck off. _Miranda couldn't believe it. She ground her teeth together to keep a scream in her mouth and glared incredulously at Jack. "Are you _serious!?_"

Joker was seated on the long bench at the back of the mess hall between Tali and Garrus. He lifted his eyes from his tray of food and looked between the two of them. "Oh, this is going to be good."

Jack folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward aggressively. "I _said_ I messed up. Chill yourself the fuck out."

"You…. you… _brat_!" Miranda snapped. It was the first word that came to her, and upon a moment's reflection, was in fact the perfect word to describe her adversary. "You're just an immature, big-mouthed, hot-headed, _brat_, Jack. You know that?"

Jack chortled. "And you're an annoying, bitch, cheerleader." She smirked. "Did _you _know that?"

Thane and Grunt were just entering the mess hall from beyond Miranda's shoulder. Grunt shook his head and gave the two a wide berth, but Thane laid a hand on Miranda's shoulder and softly said, "Perhaps it would be best to resolve this when you're both in a more stable emotional state, Miranda. Let's sit down. Eat."

Kasumi stalked between the two of them and folded herself gracefully into a chair as she looked between them with an amused expression. "I don't know, Thane. The tension between these girls is bound to come boiling over sooner or later…" The thief grinned. "Might as well be sooner. Better here than in the middle of a gunfight, no?"

Joker nodded enthusiastically. "_Yes_!"

"She smashed my computer terminal!" Miranda told the group. Her headache was coming back and she winced when a sharp pain struck her temples.

Jack rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you can afford a new one on your precious Cerberus budget, you cheap bitch."

Miranda narrowed her eyes and stepped forward, her breath coming in hot spurts through her nostrils. "Jack…" she growled through clenched teeth.

"Don't fucking step up to me, cheerleader, I'm serious," Jack warned. "Don't fucking come near me unless you want to be knocked the fuck down."

Miranda took another step, closing the gap between them to only a handful of feet.

"Don't mess with me," Jack told her, a solemn look in her eye as she shook her head. "I'm warning you, bitch."

Miranda could only hear the sound of her own hear pounding a war-drum furiously in her chest. She took another step-

-and Jack pounced.

The tattooed women flung herself into the gap between them, wrenched back her arm, and sent her balled fist alight with the blue tinge of biotic power. But instead of trying to dodge the blow, Miranda stepped _into_ the attack, and so when Jack's skinny arm came thundering around in a wide arch to bring a fist down on her, Miranda caught the strike against her body, clamped her own arm down, and pinned Jack's in place against her side. Jack winced and made to swing at her with her free hand, but Miranda was a hair quicker, jabbing her foot between Jack's own feet, hooking her ankle around Jack's calf, and shoving her backwards to trip her to the floor. Jack tumbled back with a roar and landed hard on her back. Miranda gave her no time to counterattack. She dropped to a knee, took Jack by the wrist, and twisted it hard enough so that Jack had no choice but to roll onto her side to ease the pain. When she had, Miranda flipped her over on her belly entirely, pinned her lower back with a knee, and her wrist with her hand.

"_Argh!_" Jack bellowed. "Get the _fuck _off me you bitch!"

Miranda calmed her breathing and focused on keeping the squirming woman pinned beneath her. Jack twisted and turned in every way she could, kicking her feet at Miranda's back and trying to wrench back her free arm to punch at her, but outside Jack's biotic powers, she was physically pretty weak, and it wasn't very hard to keep her pinned in place. Miranda stared at her, collecting her thoughts, but Jack wouldn't be tamed so easily. She thrashed and writhed and kicked and rolled, and soon enough, Miranda's hold on her wrist slipped through her sweaty grip and Jack rolled free to clamber to her feet.

Miranda made to rise with her, but Jack came plowing over her with a war-cry. The two tumbled to the floor beside the mess hall's main table and one of Miranda's legs caught a chair, sending it skidding back to crash into the wall. She got an elbow beneath herself to recover, but Jack hopped up and kicked it out from under her. When Miranda tried standing, Jack leaned down to grab fistfuls of her hair and flipped her over to her belly. Miranda tried resisting, but then Jack's foot was on the small of her back, pressuring it over and down and, finally, slamming her to the floor. Miranda twisted her hips, but Jack's weight came down on top of them.

"This is _amazing!_" She heard Joker cheer, and lifted her eyes enough to see the rest of the Normandy's crew was gathered around them in a circle, watching.

"_Jack_!" Miranda cried, trying to work herself free from the skinny woman's pin. "Get off!"

"Shut the fuck up," Jack snapped, taking a fistful of her hair to keep her head in place. "_You_ attacked _me_, you Cerberus bitch. You shouldn't have done that if you weren't prepared to deal with the consequences. I told you not to fuck with me."

"_What!? You_ came into my office and-" Miranda began, but was cut short when her hair was yanked and her head pulled back, stretching her neck and chest and causing her to wince and fall silent.

"I said: _shut - up_!" Jack repeated. "I'm sick of hearing your big fucking mouth."

"I don't-" Miranda started in again till Jack yanked her hair hard enough to silence her.

"That's enough, Jack," Garrus warned from beside them.

"It's over," Thane agreed.

"Let her go," said Jacob.

"Oh, fuck all of you," Jack growled, and then the mess hall filled with a booming _smack _as something fierce and hard and thunderous came barreling down across Miranda's ass cheeks.

"_Ooooh,_" Miranda moaned, unable to stop herself. The slap had come so sudden and hard down upon her butt, and had taken her by such complete surprise, she felt her skin flush and her eyes widen and her mouth gape and… something _else _stirred within her as well; something down between her legs.

Then her hair was released and Jack's weight lifted from her body. She fell to her stomach to splay out on the floor, snapping her head sideways to watch Jack casually sauntering off towards the elevator lift. "Did you-!?" Miranda stammered. "Did you… just _spank _me!?"

Jack glanced back over her shoulder. She smirked, winked, laughed a bitter, brief, laugh, and vanished around the bulkhead separating the mess hall and the lift. Miranda was still as stone as she helplessly stared after the tattooed woman long after she'd disappeared.

"Miranda?" Tali asked, bending down to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Miranda pushed herself off the floor and found the entire crew staring at her. Their eyes felt like scanning probes, and she felt a flush of deep embarrassment color her cheeks and send a chill up her spine beneath them. _She spanked me, _Miranda thought, lowering her chin to stare at her own feet and avoid eye contact with the rest of them as she stomped back to her office. _Jack actually spanked me. _The most disconcerting thing about the thought, however, was that she wasn't mad. Really, she wasn't even that embarrassed once she was back in the confines of her office, away from the rest of them. She only felt… _strange_. It was the only word she could think to describe it.

She sat back at her desk, ignoring the fact that half its contents were still spilled in a pile beside it and the place where her work terminal had been was now nothing but snapped and fraying wires protruding from an empty nook, and leaned back in her chair to fold her arms across her chest. Her throat felt dry. Her headache had temporarily faded when Jack had… did what she had, but now it was coming back with a vengeance. She shifted in her seat and felt the rectangle of flesh between her cheeks where Jack has spanked her still stinging from the blow, a bit numb. _She spanked me, _Miranda thought again, shaking her head and staring vacantly into nothing. _She just held me down and took a handful of my hair and spanked me. _She replayed the incident in her head, trying to visualize it from a third person perspective. She could see herself defeated in their little wrestling match and mounted helplessly by Jack. She saw Jack's fist closing around her hair to control her movement. She could picture Jack's other hand, firm, strong, authoritative, stretched out long and coming down and… and punishing her.

That feeling came again, the one between her legs.

Miranda jolted to her feet, all at once entirely uncomfortable sitting in her chair, and paced the length of the room, fanning her suddenly-hot face with her hand and taking deep breaths to still her nerves. He mind's eyes saw Jack's hand slapping against her ass again and again, and Miranda had to squeeze her eyes shut tight till it passed. _What is wrong with me? _She surveyed her office and decided to clean almost at once. It was, she hoped, the only way to put her mind elsewhere than Jack and her stupid hand.

And so, Miranda cleaned. And when she'd finished piling the fallen items back onto her desk and neatly arranging them again, she set about cleaning up the terminal. And when that was done, the broken monitor lying dormant in an old box she'd had stored beside her bed, she sat back at her desk. And then shortly after that, her thoughts drifted back to Jack spanking her and pulling her hair and _dominating _her, and all at once all her work to forget it was forgotten, and her breath was heavy and labored in her chest.

"_God_!" Miranda stood and laid her hand over her eyes, but in the dark, she saw Jack waiting for her with a paddle. An agitated growl erupted from her throat as she went back to pacing. _This is so stupid, _she thought. _Why the hell am I so caught up on this? It was stupid. It was a stupid slap and it__'__s over._

But when she finally pushed the thought from her head, it wasn't long before she sat down and her ass hurt a little where the numbness had worn off on her cheeks, and just like that - the whole thing was cycling through her mind yet again.

After a long moment's debate, Miranda realized there was truly only one thing to be done, and after a deep breath, she, begrudgingly, lifted to her feet to go and do it and get it over with.

She found Jack in the little hiding hole she'd been camped out in since the Commander had brought her onboard; a little, dark, nook wedged into the very bowels of the ship's engineering deck, overhung with thick pipes that cast shadows in dark stripes across the grated floors, far away from anything or anyone. Jack, apparently, did not share Miranda's uncomfortable fascination with the incident they'd shared only a half standard hour earlier. She was laid back on her little cot at the very end of the room, her feet kicked up casually atop a pillow before her, a datapad clutched between her fingers. She appeared to be reading something, a somewhat-bored look on her face as her eyes scanned left to right, lowered, and repeated.

When Miranda stepped tentatively around the corner of the room and emerged from the shadows of the big, hissing, pipes and into the dim lighting of the illuminated domes that dappled the ceiling, Jack's eyes lifted over the rim of the datapad and narrowed. "Oh, fuck me," she snapped, tossing the pad aside and swinging her legs off the cot to stand upright in an aggressive pose. "Alright, you bitch, you want to go for a round two?" She curled her hands to fists. "Just know you don't have a crew of uptight shitheads to pull your ass out of the fire this time."

Miranda raised her arms placatingly. "I'm not here to fight, Jack."

"No?" Jack sneered. "Then what the fuck _do_ you want, cheerleader? An apology? Fuck yourself."

"No. I don't want an apology."

Jack fixed her with a shrewd look. "Then what the fuck are you doing here?" She craned her neck to look around the cluster of pipes cornering her little nook, a sudden mistrustful look wrinkling her brow. "What is this shit? What do you want?"

"I…" _What _do_ you want? _Miranda looked to her feet and shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Then get the fuck out of here," Jack growled, pointing back the way Miranda had come.

"Why did you do that to me before?" Miranda said, the words spilling out of her mouth in an awkward rush before she could stop them. She lifted her eyes to Jack's, saw the fiery look in them, and dropped her gaze again immediately.

"Do _what_?"

"You…" _This is so stupid. _"You held me down and…" Miranda laid a hand over her eyes and shook her head. She'd _never _been so flustered, so awkward, with another person before. "Why the hell did you _spank _me, Jack!?"

There was a long and deep quiet, and in it Miranda was about as uncomfortable as she'd ever been. She looked up to see Jack staring at her pensively. Above, the faint sound of the Normandy's engines whirring and humming was the only noise sitting in the ten foot gap of silence lingering thickly between them.

"What is this?" Jack finally asked. She stepped forward to look left and right, her eyes scanning the shadows of the hall at either end leading to her hiding hole. "Are you trying to get me to confess to some bullshit to get me kicked off the ship? Are you recording me or something?"

"What? No. Of course not."

"Then what _is _this?" Jack repeated, taking another step closer. "What exactly are you asking me?" She squinted. "Why did I slap your big, stupid, ass? Because you were being a mouthy little bitch and you needed to be put in your place." She stepped closer. "And if you think for one fucking _second _that I won't bend your prissy ass over and do it again if you try fucking with me, you better think twice, bitch."

When Jack took yet another step, Miranda reflexively took one backwards, but her back was already close to the wall behind her, and her heel found it almost at once, halting her retreat dead in its tracks.

Jack pressed in tighter on her. "So why did you _really _come down here? And you better think long and hard before you open that pretty little mouth of yours to answer, cheerleader, because I _will _tear you a new one if I don't like what I hear."

"I just… I don't _know _Jack. Honestly." The answer sounded so stupid, even to Miranda herself, she had to try rectifying it. "I was just sitting in my office and I was thinking about what happened between you and I, but when I tried to _stop _thinking about it, I couldn't, so… so I came down here and now I honestly don't know _what _the hell to do, alright?"

Jack pulled up her advance a meter short of Miranda, folded her arms over her chest, and squinted shrewdly, eyeing Miranda up and down, head to toe. When their eyes met again, Jack asked, "When's the last time you got fucked?"

"_W-what!?_"

Jack rolled her eyes. "You didn't hear me? Alright. Then listen carefully. When - is - the - last - time - you - got - _fucked_, cheerleader? That clear enough for you?"

Miranda felt her neck and cheeks run hot. She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "What does that matter…?"

"It matters because, clearly, you want to fuck me. Or you want _me _to fuck _you_. Either way…" Jack grinned. "…looks like your nothing but a horny, dyke, bitch." Miranda gaped at the tattooed woman standing just a few feet in front of her, but before she could muster up a retort to the accusation, Jack went on. "What, did my little slap on that big, bubbly, ass of yours shake the cobwebs off your cunt?" She laughed. "You horny slut. You me to fuck you, cheerleader? Is that it? Huh?"

"_Jack_!" Miranda snapped. "I never said-"

Jack jolted into the gap between them, shoved Miranda back up against the wall, and before Miranda could even collect her bearings, had snatched her by the wrists and pinned them up over her head. She meekly tugged at them, but Jack tightened her grip. When she opened her mouth to protest, Jack's free hand reached up and clamped firmly over it, pinching her lips together and silencing her immediately.

"Shut up," Jack demanded when Miranda mumbled against her palm. "_Shut - up_! I'm sick of hearing your big fucking mouth. Now you listen to me, cheerleader, and listen to me good. I don't like you. Understand? And I don't give a fuck if you like me, hate me, lust after me, or whatever the fuck else is going on in your dumbass head. I think you're a bitch and a Cerberus cheerleader, and I would like nothing more than to throw your ass out the airlock and watch you freeze to death in space."

Miranda's eyes widened at that, but she couldn't say even one word in reply with Jack's hand still firmly clamping her mouth shut. There was something… exciting about that idea, but Miranda could barely think straight with Jack's face pressing so close to her own. She couldn't help but stare at the features of Jack's face: the sharp cheekbones and long lashes and pretty brown eyes and the full, red, lips that she'd, somehow, never noticed looked so inviting and warm and moist before.

Jack seemed to be studying the features of _her _face as well. "I don't like you," she repeated, took a pause, and added, "but you _are_ fucking hot. It pisses me off. I want to hate you entirely, but I unfortunately also happen to think you're about the sexiest bitch I've ever laid my eyes on, so there… you're hot, fuck you."

Miranda stared; her heart racing; her palms sweating.

"So here's what I'm going to offer you," Jack told her. "That slap turned you on? Got in your head? Made you remember that, despite all your 'perfect' genetic engineering bullshit, that you're still just flesh and blood and you want that tight slit between your legs filled up just like any other chick? Good for you. But you can't _have_ me just because you _want_ me, you conceited whore. If you want to play, I'll play, but you're _my _fuck toy, not the other way around. Got it? I'll do what I want to you, _when _I want to you, and you'll lie there and keep your fucking mouth shut and take it. If that doesn't sound appealing to you?" She nodded to the stairs back the way Miranda had come. "Get the fuck out, and don't bother coming around here again."

Jack's eyes, dark and fierce and passionate, bore into her own. Miranda could only stare back, waiting to be allowed to answer. A dozen thoughts and feelings were barreling through her mind, but she knew only one truly mattered.

"Well," Jack began with a raised eyebrow, "what's it going to be, cheerleader?"

At once, Miranda nodded.

Jack held her eyes a moment before licking at her lips and saying, "Don't think I'm going to be eating that desperate pussy of yours anytime soon though, bitch. You want to be touched? You'll have to earn it. I'm going to let you go now. And you're _going _to go. And then you're going to come back here, later tonight, when the ship powers down and the lights get dim and the crew goes to sleep." She nodded as a mischievous little smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Then you're going to _beg_ me for the privilege to massage my fucking feet. Then, if you're good enough at that, you'll be allowed to rub my back. And if you're _real _fucking lucky, cheerleader, I'll let you touch my tits a little and pinch at my nipples. Is that you something you want, you dirty slut? Huh?"

Miranda swallowed, nodded. By then, she'd do just about _anything _to relieve some of the intense tension that had been mounting and mounting between her legs since Jack had pinned her against the wall.

Jack stared. "Are you going to keep your big fucking mouth shut about this to everyone else?"

Again, Miranda nodded.

"Good. Because if you don't?" Jack leaned close enough for the hot breath of every word she spoke to tickle at Miranda's nose. "I'll hogtie your ass and lock you up in that trunk at the foot of my bed. Then you'll _really _be nothing more than a fuck-toy, because the only time I'll bring you out is to eat my pussy. You understand me?"

Miranda wasn't sure she'd ever been more turned on in her life than she was in that moment. She _wanted _to be locked up in Jack's trunk and used… she could hardly believe it, but the thought of such helplessness… it was driving her mad with arousal.

Jack, clearly, must have noticed, for she was watching Miranda with a strange expression wrinkling her brow. After a moment, she said, "Now get out of here. Not a word, either. Just turn around and go. Come back later if that little itch between your legs is still bothering you, though I won't make any promises to scratch it anytime soon. Go."

Jack released her, and Miranda obediently went.

She'd gone three steps before Jack's hand thundered across her ass cheek. She gasped, felt her crotch tingle from the blow, and, slowly, a faint smile crept across her lips. She didn't turn back, only kept walking on back towards the lift with her freshly-spanked ass stinging from the blow. She hadn't been so excited in a long, long, time, and she hoped Jack was watching her.

And she hoped later, Jack would be waiting for her.


	2. Chapter 2

"Miranda?": Shepard's voice, strong and as fierce as the man himself, approaching from the shadows.

Miranda lifted her face out of her hands and narrowed her eyes into the dim lobby adjoining the mess hall. The ship was in its power-conservation state, the lights lowered, the engines idling, and most of the crew fast asleep. Except, apparently, Shepard and herself. The Commander was leaned against the outer bulkhead of the med-bay, watching her, his face half-hidden in shadow. Miranda had been lost in her thoughts, as dirty and strange and frightening as they were, and set about straightening in the chair she'd drifted off in and tidying up the rogue strands of dark hair that had slipped from behind her ears. She forced a smile, though the gesture felt weak and phony against her cheeks, and nodded. "Commander Shepard."

"Are you alright?"

She joined her hands together atop the mess hall table and laced her fingers, smiling her forced-smile. "Of course, Commander."

He watched her a moment before asking, "You sure? You look… nervous, Miranda. Your leg is shaking."

She hadn't noticed, but he was right. Her left foot was angled up on the toe of her boot, and her knee was bouncing as frenetically as an impatient child's. She stilled it immediately, hating that she'd been so foolish to give away such a blatant visual tell like that one, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Commander. It's… it's nothing you need to be concerned with. Just… thinking about some things. It won't affect my ship duties, nor my performance in combat."

Shepard nodded. "That's good. I need your head on straight, Miranda. We've got another distress call from a stranded ship near Illium. We'll be there by tomorrow."

"Yes, Commander. Of course."

"And there's a group of Batarian mercenaries terrorizing some colonists on one of the developing outer worlds. We'll need to take a look into it soon."

"Yes, Commander."

"And did you finish the psyche profiles on the engineers yet?" Shepard asked. "I need to look those over soon. I've got to have an idea of who my crew are, Miranda, if I'm expected to lead them."

"They're almost complete, Commander." She felt that throb of her headache from earlier coming back into her temples, but refused to rub her fingers against them. She couldn't let Shepard know she was stressed. That would be revealing a weakness, and she was Miranda Lawson, after all… she was 'perfect'.

Shepard quietly stared at her. "Alright then, Miranda. Get some sleep, will you? I'll need you in top shape early tomorrow."

"Yes, Commander. I will be, Commander."

He nodded, turned, and slipped around the bulkhead. A moment later, she heard the heavy thrust of the ship's lift taking him up to his captain's quarters, and Miranda Lawson was alone again.

It didn't take her thoughts long to drift back to where they'd been: on Jack. She kept replaying their encounters, both the one they'd had there in the mess hall, and the 'conversation' they'd exchanged down in Jack's hiding hole earlier, and each time Jack spoke or slapped in her memories, Miranda felt restless and uncomfortable and had to keep turning about in the stupid chair she'd sat herself in to try and find some way to sit that didn't make her want to tear her hair out. _Come back later if that little itch between your legs is still bothering you, _Jack had said, as if the choice to return to her was so easy to make. Miranda was angry at the shaved-headed woman one moment, curious about her the next, and then… _hungry _for her the next before cycling back around to a deep anger. Her leg started shaking again, but with no one around to scrutinize her, Miranda let it go. It helped. …a little, at least.

_Jack_, she thought with a reproachful shake of her head. _Jack, Jack, Jack. _She even started to hate the _name_ of the woman who'd gotten her mind all twisted up, but it was impossible to maintain her contempt. She kept seeing Jack's full, red, lips moving as she spoke down in the bowels of the ship earlier, and couldn't stop herself from wondering what those lips might feel like pressed up against her own. She had always, in truth, thought Jack was sort of 'cute', if such a word could be applied to someone as foul-mouthed and full of anger as Jack. Miranda found the shaved head thing sort of endearing, and she did have some rather pretty artwork wrapping ink around her limbs and torso, but… she'd never thought of Jack as anything _more. _Not till that slap came down across her ass, at least, and changed everything.

Miranda stood, tightly crossed her arms over her chest, and paced the length of the mess hall. She looked to the floor and thought, _She__'__s down there somewhere. Is she waiting for me? Does she even _want_ me to come? __…__will she spank me again if I don__'__t? _She halted her pacing beside the med-bay, tapped her foot, grew impatient, headed back to the other end of the room, leaned against the bulkhead, grew uncomfortable, pushed off again. There was just nowhere she could go and nothing she could do to make herself forget the young, tattooed, woman in the bowels of the ship that was either waiting for her… or had already forgotten her.

_She didn__'__t forget you, _Miranda told herself. _That__'__s ridiculous. _But the damage from that stray thought had already been done, and now she had a new concern to worry at: neglect.

After a long moment's debate, Miranda reached the same conclusion she'd reached earlier in the day: she had to go to Jack. She had to _see_ her, had to feel her skin again, as she had when Jack had put her hand over Miranda's mouth and held it there after pinning her wrists up above her head, controlling her entirely. _She controlled me, _Miranda reflected, the concept both terrifying and exhilarating all at once, and before long, her feet were carrying her into the lift and down deep into the bowels of the ship once again, almost as if of their own accord.

Jack was down there in her hiding hole, of _course_ she was down there, and she was seated on the edge of her little cot that was wedged back into the corner of the ship below a cluster of red and grey pipes. When Miranda's boots sent little skiffs sounding as they carried her over a patch of metal grating, Jack's head turned and the woman's eyes found her own. Briefly, so quickly gone it was as if it had not come at all, Miranda saw a strange expression cross Jack's face, but the lighting was low, and in the shadows it was hard to ascertain what the look might have been. Then Jack was rising to her feet and stepping nearer and Miranda felt like a scared little child all over again.

"Took your sweet fucking time, didn't you?" Jack asked.

"I… had to think things over," Miranda told her honestly. She teetered on her heels and pulled a deep breath to still her nerves.

"Yeah? Well patience isn't one of my strengths, cheerleader, and I don't fucking like being made to wait."

"I'm sorry," Miranda replied immediately. Part of her didn't want Jack to be angry… but another part did, a part that wanted Jack's anger to come and wash over her, take her by the hair, punish her. "I'm here now, though."

"Yeah, but did you come alone?" Jack leaned forward to look around the dark halls. "Or is Shepard or someone back there, ready to arrest me and throw my ass off the ship the second I lay a hand on that big, perfect, ass of yours?"

_She doesn__'__t trust very easily, _Miranda thought, and almost voiced it till she caught herself and realized how foolish that would have been. Of course Jack didn't trust people easily: she'd been either sold or kidnapped as a child, held captive, experimented on, betrayed in every sense of the word. Miranda stared into the woman's dark eyes and wondered, truly, if she'd ever trusted _anyone_ in her life. The idea was sad, and it made her want to reach out and take Jack by the hand and promise her she wasn't trying to pull anything. Instead, she simply said, "I'm alone Jack."

Jack stared with that piercing look of hers a moment before saying, "Alright, listen to me, cheerleader, what the hell are you looking to get out of this… whatever the fuck this is. Me? I'll use that perfect little body of yours to get myself off, but I don't want any messy 'feelings' or bullshit tangled up in this. If you're some lonely cunt looking to get fucked, fine, but if you're going to start, like, crying on me or some shit and confessing your-"

"I'm in the same boat as you, Jack," Miranda interjected. "I think I just need… need to unwind a little. That's all." Her hand went to her temple and rubbed. "I've been getting these headaches…"

"Aw, is the poor little Cerberus bitch overworked?" Jack taunted. "Must be hard being so fucking perfect and wonderful that everyone wants your help, huh? Fuck you."

Miranda opened her mouth, closed it. She had no idea how to respond to that, so simply resolved to sighing and staring at her feet.

"Get on your knees."

She looked up. "What?"

Jack scowled. "I said get on your _fucking _knees. Do it, or go. Your choice."

Miranda didn't need more than a brief moment of hesitation to decide. She lowered herself to the floor, laid her hands flat to steady herself, and got on her knees. She leaned back to rest on her calves and looked up at Jack. Jack was towering over her from that angle, a tattooed giant, and the notion of being so comparatively small and worthless was… exciting.

Jack held her eyes a moment as the anger in her expression faded, then she turned, sauntered back to her cot, and perched on its edge again. She rested her hands on her knees and patted one against her thigh. "Now crawl your ass over here."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as Miranda dropped her hands to the floor at once. She moved forth, slow as to not hurt her knees, and gradually made her way across the gap between Jack and herself, crawling like nothing more than a helpless child the whole way. She kept her eyes trained on Jack's as she came, and when she saw that the act seemed to be giving Jack satisfaction, she felt all the more excited to be doing it. If she'd been commanded there and then to crawl back and start her crawl all over again, she would have done so immediately without question.

When she was close enough to grab, Jack did just that, taking a handful of her hair and tugging at it till she was kneeling with Jack's thighs on either side of her arms. She straightened her back when Jack released her hair and stared into the younger woman's eyes. The two of them were so close then, close enough that Miranda could see the buckles of Jack's chest harness pressing against her milky, tattooed, skin; close enough to see the little twin mounds of Jack's breasts pushing against the belts, waiting to be freed.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Jack asked.

Miranda pried her gaze from those little perky breasts. "Oh…"

"You were thinking about fucking me, weren't you?"

"I… I was…"

"You're nothing but a little dirty slut that wants to see my tits and fuck me, aren't you?"

Miranda watched Jack's lips form the word '_fuck_' and, somehow, it was more arousing than anything. "Yes," she blurted, though she wasn't actually guilty of the accusation. "Yes, Jack, I want to fuck you."

"Whore," Jack muttered, reached around the back of her head, and took a fistful of her hair again, bringing her a bit closer. They held eyes for a long moment then, Miranda's heart hammering furiously against her chest, her skin feeling hot and itchy and eager to touch and be touched, before Jack told her, "I'm going to kiss you now."

Miranda swallowed. "…okay."

Jack yanked her head forward hard and used her free hand to grip Miranda's chin and keep her steady as she leaned in herself. Miranda's eyes closed on their own and she felt her nipples stiffen a bit beneath the tightness of her suit when Jack's lips found hers. She'd been expecting Jack's kiss to be as hard and violent as the woman herself… but it wasn't, not at all. It was soft and tender and warm and without tongue. Jack kissed and sucked at her top lip briefly before kissing at her twice more and pulling away.

It had been long and longer since Miranda had been kissed, especially like _that_, and she made to follow Jack's retreat and prolong the sensual act-

-and Jack's hand darted out to slap her hard across the cheek.

Miranda's mouth gaped as she stared up at the woman and laid a hand softly on the freshly-stung flesh of her face.

Jack smirked. "You don't kiss me. _I _kiss _you_. Don't forget that. That's what I want out of this, and it sure as fuck seems like that's what you want. If it's not?" She gestured to the adjacent hall. "Get your ass up and leave."

"No," Miranda protested. "It is what I want. It is. I just wasn't expecting you to-"

Jack slapped her again. Like the first attack though, neither was so hard as to actually hurt her, but both had just enough force to sting her cheek and shut her up.

"You'll talk only if I want you talking," Jack informed her. "Until then? Keep that fucking pretty little mouth of yours shut. You understand?"

Miranda almost said 'yes' before catching herself and nodding her comprehension instead.

Jack licked her lips. "…and fuck you for tasting so good. Fucking bitch. It's not enough that you're the most attractive bitch I've ever seen… your lips are soft and sweet like a fucking peach or some shit and now I want to kiss them again." She frowned. "Do you like that, cheerleader? Do you like the fact that people lust after you? Huh?"

Miranda considered it.

Jack rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't get that 'I'm so smart and thoughtful' look on your face, cheerleader, it was a rhetorical question. It pisses me off how hot you are. It pisses me off that you've probably had guys, girl, and fucking aliens alike fantasizing about that bubbly ass of yours since you've been a woman grown. And it _really _pisses me off that now that I've had a taste of you, _I__'__m _going to be the dumb bitch down here thinking about you."

Miranda lowered her head to conceal a little smile that was trying to tug at the corner of her mouth. She liked the idea of Jack thinking about her, wanting her, desiring her.

"I seen that fucking smirk, you bitch," Jack said, taking her forcefully by the chin to lift her eyes back to her own. "You like that? You like the _power _you and that body of yours have over people, don't you? I can see you want to say something. Don't. If you do, I'll smack your face for real this time and it will do a whole lot more than just sting."

Miranda kept quiet, but some faint voice in the back of her head was demanding she didn't. A part of her wan't to be rebellious, wanted to _earn_ a slap, wanted to be punished.

Jack's eyes lowered to her chest and the younger woman bit at her lip. Her breath was coming a little harder then, same as Miranda's, and a hungry look came across her as she reached for the little zipper of Miranda's suit that hung just atop her collarbone. Jack tugged it down, gently, slowly, and Miranda's heartbeat climbed again. Jack pulled and pulled, filing the quiet little nook of hers with a long, drawn-out _zzzzzzzip_, and before long, Miranda felt the cool faint breeze of the engine room above gusting across her partially-bared chest. She looked down to see Jack had uncovered the tops of her breasts, only the black bra she was wearing beneath left to conceal her nakedness. Beneath _that_, her nipples were hard and sensitive and eager to be touched or kissed.

"Fuck," Jack muttered, staring intently at what she'd uncovered. "I hate you, cheerleader. I hate you and I hate your big perfect tits and your big perfect ass and… _argh_!" She growled her agitation and quickly zipped the front of Miranda's suit back up. "I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to do with you? Is this for real? You're going to let me just… what? Do whatever the fuck I want? To your tits? …to your pussy?"

For the first time since Miranda had met her, she thought Jack seemed a little flustered, a little off her game. It was… comforting, in a way. She had started to think Jack was too hardened and cold to ever _get _flustered. "You're the one in charge," she said. "I guess that means you can do whatever you want."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You're a manipulating little cunt, you know that? You almost had me there. You and your tits almost had me. But I'm too fucking smart for your games. I'm not getting you off. _You__'__re _getting me off. You understand that, you cheap whore? You're nothing but a dirty bitch and you'll do whatever I tell you."

"Yes," Miranda answered. "I will, Jack."

"_Shut up_!" Jack growled and stood so suddenly, Miranda was almost tipped backwards between her legs. Jack slipped past her, folded her arms over her chest, and began pacing the length of the room.

Miranda had no idea what she'd done or said to rouse Jack's anger, and so she could only stay on her knees, quietly, and watch as the woman balled her fists and stomped around. Jack's eyes would occasionally flick to hers, but that only served to bring a contemptuous sneer to her face and a muttering of curses under her breath, and after a few bouts of that, Jack stormed past her and Miranda thought she was going to strike her. She didn't. Instead, she simply sat herself on her cot, scooting back to lean against the wall and fix Miranda with a cold stare.

"…are you alright?"

"I didn't tell you to open your fucking mouth," Jack snapped.

Miranda pressed her lips tightly together.

"Ms. Fucking Perfect… you're not better than me. You're just… you're just a fucking genetic freak."

Miranda stared, silent.

Jack stared right back, but after a few seconds, rolled her eyes and looked away, letting out a long breath and running a hand across her forehead. She leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed and crossed her feet at the ankles atop her cot. Miranda watched her, uncertain of what was expected of her, or if she'd somehow blown the whole thing and should just get up and leave. Jack was… complicated. She should've known that from the start.

"Ms. Perfect…" Jack muttered again, just as much anger in the word 'perfect' as before. "Think you're so wonderful and everyone should be so lucky to be in your presence."

"I don't think that."

Jack's eyes filled with wrath. "Did I _tell _you you could talk!? Did you not understand me before!?" She looked from Miranda to the bed and back, a mischievous smirk lifting her lips. "Now you have to be punished, don't you? Get the fuck up here and lay across my lap before I _really _get mad."

That warm excitement stirred between Miranda's legs and her breath came a little shallow in her chest, but she did not let either of those things slow her down even a bit: she clambered to her feet to kneel again, this time atop Jack's mattress. _We__'__re both on the same bed, _she thought, finding the notion wonderful, terrifying, exciting, dangerous. She moved forward a bit and Jack reached up to take a hold of the back of her neck, her fingers pinching hard into the soft flesh there.

"Get the fuck down," she growled, pulling Miranda across her legs and shoving her head and shoulders towards the cot on the other side. Miranda's head turned and her face pressed against the soft little blanket Jack kept atop the mattress, her hands splaying out on either side of it. She felt her rear lift a bit as it found the bumps of Jack's knees and lap, and Miranda grabbed two fistfuls of the blanket in anticipation. She was entirely helpless then, her head and shoulders held firmly down with Jack's hand, her legs awkwardly knelt and crossed at her ankles, and her butt… her butt hoisted in the air right over Jack's lap, defenseless to prevent any punishment that might come its way. Miranda bit her lip and closed her eyes. Her toes curled in her boots.

"You want this bad, don't you you little whore?" Jack asked, squeezing a bit at her neck.

Miranda had learned her lesson last time: she kept her mouth shut.

"You can answer."

"…yes."

"'Yes' what?"

_A game, _Miranda realized. "Yes, Jack, I want you to… punish me."

"Why?"

It was a dangerous game, Miranda figured. If she said the wrong thing, would Jack _not _punish her? Or what if she said something _so _wrong, Jack kicked her out entirely. The tattooed woman was hot-headed and impulsive, she could blow it all with one misplaced word. "Because I'm a whore," Miranda tried, never thinking in a millions years she would have uttered those words. "Because I'm a whore that needs to be punished."

"You are," Jack agreed. "And because you think you're better than me."

_I don__'__t, _Miranda nearly said before she realized what a mistake it would be and bit her lip to shut herself up.

"Say it," Jack commanded from above her.

Miranda tried to turn a bit to face her, but Jack immediately met the act with more pressure on her neck, pressing her face down more firmly against the blanket.

"_Say it_," Jack repeated.

"…I think I'm better than you."

_Crack._

The room filled with the sound of Jack's hand clashing fiercely against Miranda's ass as a tremor of pain and excitement worked its way up Miranda's entire body, from the sensitive spot between her cheeks that Jack had punished, all the way up to her chest, where it quickened her heart rate and stiffened her nipples.

"_Oh,_" Miranda involuntarily moaned, squeezing her eyes shut and hoisting her butt just a bit higher.

"Quiet," Jack demanded. "…now tell me what else you think about me."

_We__'__re still playing the game. _Miranda considered her words carefully, trying to figure out what Jack wanted to hear. After a moment's debate, she settled on, "I think you're a loud-mouthed punk, and if I could get free of you right now, I'd arrest and detain you myself for this… insubordination to your superior officer."

_Crack._

Again, Miranda's whole body both somehow tensed and untensed, experienced a wave of pain as well as a wave of pleasure, and her ass hoisted again, eager to intercept another blow against it. Between her legs, she felt herself swelling and moistening, and all of a sudden she wanted very badly for Jack to remove her cumbersome suit and punish her more… severely.

"You're not my superior," Jack told her.

"Yes I am."

_Crack._

"You think you're the fucking Queen of this ship, don't you?" Jack asked. "You're the Queen and everyone else is a filthy peasant that should be worshipping your feet."

"Not everyone," Miranda corrected." Just you, Jack. I think I'm _your _Queen and you're _my _peasant."

"Bitch."

_Crack._

"_Ah,_" Miranda moaned again before she could stop herself.

"Do that again and I'll find something to gag you with. Then your big mouth will be _forced_ shut and you won't be able to scream and call out for help even if I'm hurting your soft little ass."

The idea of being gagged silent awoke a whole different kind of excitement in Miranda, but she resolved to keep quiet on the matter (for the time being) and waited patiently and obediently for Jack to punish her again.

"What else do you have to say for yourself?"

Miranda ruminated before answering. "When I get free of you, I'm going to make you get on your knees and apologize to me in front of everyone, Jack. You can't do this to your superior. You're nothing but a lowly, dirty, peasant and I-"

_Crack - Crack - Crack._

Three sharp slaps thundered across Miranda's ass cheeks in quick succession, each stinging slightly less than the one before it because of how numb Miranda's butt was growing. She bit hard on her bottom lip to keep a moan in her mouth and squeezed the covers under her hands so tight she felt her nails even through the double layers biting against her palms. The tremors of the slaps were rumbling down to her crotch then, teasing at her clit, and Miranda knew the panties she wore would be damp enough soon to feel.

With a sudden shift of her legs and arms, Jack quickly slid Miranda forward and flipped her onto her back. Miranda had just gotten turned around and was readying to fix a confused look on Jack when the shaved-headed woman climbed on top of her, straddling her waist and pinning it below her own, and leaned down to cover Miranda's mouth with hers. Jack did come violent then, her hands reaching up to take two fistfuls of Miranda's hair, and both her lips and tongue working furiously at Miranda's mouth.

Jack released her hair and got a hand up between their chests. A moment later, Miranda felt her zipper coming down again, and a few seconds after that, Jack's hand slipped inside her suit, warm and soft against her belly and ribcage, and slid up to cup at her right breast. Her fingers fondled a moment with the bra before finding their way inside it and pinching hard at her nipple.

"_Oh!_" Miranda yelped, but the pain was just as wonderful as the spanking had been and when Jack pinched again, she bit her lip and pressed her lips firmly against Jack's, wanting to kiss her, wanting to please her, but also wanting to be punished more all the same. All of a sudden, Jack tasted wonderful, the skin of her face was the softest, tenderest, thing Miranda could imagine as her hands graced her cheeks, tracing the cheekbones there and cupping at her chin. She kissed and kissed and they found tongues and kissed some more. Jack's fingers tweaked at her nipple a third time, and it only rose the flames of her desire more fiercely. Jack pulled her lips from Miranda's, lowered her head down near her collarbone, and took some skin their between her teeth, biting hard enough to make Miranda yelp again.

"You're mine," Jack whispered before biting again, this time a bit lower, and using her free hand to yank at Miranda's hair. "Say it."

"I'm yours," Miranda told her.

"My property."

"Yes. Yes, I'm your property."

Miranda wrapped her legs around Jack's slim waist and squeezed. Jack slid down a bit and started working at removing her bra.

"Who do you belong to?" Jack asked as she lowered her chin to Miranda's belly and licked a line up to the sensitive spot right between her breasts. "Say it."

"I belong to you," Miranda practically shouted. "I belong to Jack! I belong to _you_!"

Jack pulled away from her and wrestled out of the tangle her legs had around her waist. "You're God-damned fucking right you do," she said, shoving Miranda's legs aside so she could make her way off the cot. "Now get the fuck out of here."

Miranda, momentarily, was dumbfounded. "…what?" She croaked.

"You heard me, slut," Jack told her as she stood with her hands on her hips. "Get out of here. I don't want to look at you anymore. You disgust me."

Miranda's heart was still hammering a mile-a-minute in her chest. Her skin was slick with sweat. "Jack… I don't understand."

"_Get - out_!" Jack commanded, pointing to the hall. "And do it quick. I'm tired and I'm sick of looking at you."

Miranda stared, nonplussed.

"_Go_!"

And without any other option truly laid before her, Miranda did. She scooted off the bed, zipped back up the front of her suit, and padded past Jack without a clue as to what to say or what had even just happened. When she'd reached the stairs, though, Jack's voice called after her, "And don't you even fucking _think _about getting yourself off up there if you're all hot and bothered. Take a cold shower if that's the case. If you orgasm tonight… I'll know, you whore. You just go the fuck to sleep. …and bring your big ass back down here tomorrow."

_So that__'__s it, _Miranda realized as she climbed the stairs (slowly, because of her sore ass cheeks) back to her quarters. _It__'__s a game again. She wants to be in control of my body entirely. No coming unless Jack _wants _me to come._

It was with those thoughts, later, she lay in bed with for a long, long, time. And though she hadn't reached climax that night, she _had _momentarily forgotten all her responsibilities and duties and being 'perfect' long enough for her headache to go away.

For down there, in the bowels of the ship, when the lights were low and the engines idling was the only sound lingering in the air, she was no longer 'Ms. Perfect'. She was just Jack's property…

…only Jack's.


	3. Chapter 3

It was two days before Miranda had another opportunity to spend time with Jack. As promised, the morning after the two of them had… 'played', Commander Shepard had the Normandy brought in orbit around Illium to deal with a stranded ship's distress call that the asari and their Justicars who called the planet home, apparently, couldn't be bothered to deal with themselves. After the beacon was tracked and traced, it led them out to a solitary ship, isolated and drifting near one of Illium's smaller moons. Shepard had them docked and took Miranda and Grunt onboard. The stranded ship was filled to the brim with dead crew and living mercenaries; scavengers whom intercepted the distress beacon and got there just ahead of the Normandy. The words exchanged between the mercs and the Commander had been brief, the gunfighting afterwards long, and by the end of the skirmish, Miranda had taken more than a few shots against her shield, had put down three humans and one batarian, and the throbbing in her temple that had momentarily subsided came ripping back to the surface of her head with a vengeance.

And the Commander was not in the best of moods afterwards, either. He had business back on the planet with an asari friend of his, and informed Miranda that they'd be docked at Illium for awhile. _Her _assignment was to meticulously look over the datapads they'd recovered from the stranded ship and bring what information she could find to Shepard when he returned. And so that was how Miranda had spend her first day on Illium: locked up in her office in the docked Normandy in some spaceport with a half-dozen datapads that needed to be decrypted and scanned and decrypted again before revealing long, riveting, and utterly _enthralling_ lists… of supplies and medical information on the deceased crew.

_Worthless, _Miranda had thought as she squeezed her eyes closed and felt the pounding of her temples throb rhythmically like some war drum in her head. _Completely worthless work. _But work it was, and there was lots of it to do before she'd have any rest, so she made herself swallow a handful of acetaminophen that eased—but not removed—the pain, and went back to her grind.

It was the next day that, for a change, Jack came to _her_ instead of Miranda having to prod her way down into the bowels of the ship to the biotic's little hiding hole. She was going over some of the medical information she'd recovered in the Normandy's med-bay—empty, with most of the rest of the crew either aiding Shepard with whatever business he had with the asari or taking some leisure time on Illium for themselves—when Miranda had the distinct feeling that there were eyes on her. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled and she snapped her head around to spot Jack leaning casually against the jamb of the doorway; her thin and supple frame curving to match the slight bow in the wall.

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Miranda wasn't sure what even _to _say, in truth, and found herself simply eyeing Jack up, from the woman's dark combat boots that laced straps around her shins and calves, to the faded orange/brown pants behind them that hugged at her thighs and hips, then up to her exposed midriff and the chest harness she wore that put both her mural of inked artwork and the little mounds of her breasts on display. Miranda's gaze lingered there a moment before lifting to Jack's lips (_red and full, _she couldn't help but think) and eyes, which were draped with dark eyeshadow that gave even the casual, somewhat-indifferent, expression Jack was wearing then a sinister look.

"You know, you're one cruel bitch, cheerleader," Jack finally spoke into the uncomfortable silence of the med-bay. She thrummed her ink-wrapped fingers against her bare shoulder and shook her head. "Yep. Just one, cruel, sadistic, bitch is all you are."

"I haven't been ignoring you," Miranda explained. "I've been busy, Jack. I have responsibilities. To the Commander, to the crew… to the Normandy. I can't just come down to your quarters and… _play _whenever I want to."

"And where, exactly, in your precious 'responsibilities' does not pissing me the fuck off come in?" Jack asked, folding her arms across her chest and sauntering into the room. The thick rubber heels of her boots thumped against the floor as she stalked near. "Huh? You come down to _me_ and tease me with those perfect fucking tits of yours and that perfect fucking ass… and then you keep them away frome me. What about what _I _want?"

Miranda reached for her temple and sighed. "Priorities, Jack. I have to keep them in order."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you do." She made her way slowly around the big table between them and disappeared behind Miranda's shoulder. Miranda watched her as long as she could before she would have to turn her hips to keep track of her. Jack's voice came from behind her back: "You want to know what _my _number one 'priority' has been since I saw you crawling over to me on your knees down below deck and got a peek at those big wonderful tits of yours?"

"Jack…" Miranda began.

Jack's arms came around her waist, her hands laid flat on the table on either side of Miranda's hips. A flush of excitement washed over Miranda immediately. Jack quietly said, "_My _priority… has been to fuck you silly, cheerleader."

Jack's waist pressed up against the small of her back and thrust against her a bit, and Miranda had to pull a deep breath to still her nerves. "Jack, I can't. I have work to do."

"Apparently, so do I." Jack's lips were near enough to the back of her neck then that Miranda could feel the warmth of her breath tickle against the sensitive skin there and send a few strands of hair billowing up across her cheek. Miranda lifted a hand to tuck the hair away, but Jack snatched her by the wrist, wrenched her arm down to her side, then twisted it up behind her back; forcefully, but not so much so that it hurt.

"Jack!" Miranda yelped, trying to twist herself around and out of the awkward hold Jack had on her, but just like that, Jack had gotten a grip on her other wrist and worked the same maneuver on it that she had the first. By the time she'd finished, Jack had Miranda's hands pinned together behind her atop her lower back. "What are you _doing_?" Miranda snapped, but the second she made to free herself and could not… that warm excitement stirred deep between her legs again. "Would you please let me go?"

Instead of an answer, however, she heard a brief _zzzip _from behind as thin bands closed tightly around the flesh of her wrists. Miranda's heart skipped a beat when she jerked at her arms and felt what must have been the plastic zip-ties Jack had locked her hands up in deny her movement beyond a slight jerk of the shoulders. "_Jack! _Did you just… you _handcuffed _me!?"

"No sneaking something by you, cheerleader," Jack said, allowing Miranda to spin around and face her now that, clearly, she'd accomplished what she'd intended to. "I can see why you're so important to Shepard with keen insights like that."

"Take them off," Miranda demanded, pulling again at her now-useless arms. The plastic cuffs squeezed at her wrists though, keeping her hands where they were and her arms angled awkwardly back around her body. "Jack, I'm serious. I have _work _to do. Take these things off my wrists. _Please_."

Jack only smirked. "What? You don't like being cuffed? You know, the whole 'spank me' thing and being restrained usually go hand-in-hand. You wanted me to dominate you, didn't you?"

"Jack…"

"Plus, you look fucking _good _in handcuffs, cheerleader. With your arms pulled back like that, those big fucking tits of yours are pressing up against your suit." Jack licked her lips and stared at her chest, her eyelids lowered amorously. "Fuck. That's actually really getting me worked up right now."

"_Jack_!" Miranda balled her hands to fists, but all wrapped up in the plastic ties, they stayed helplessly together at the small of her back, unable to effectively threaten anyone. "You have to free me. Right now. I'm not kidding." She glanced at the datapads lying atop the medical table, and just the mere thought of all the work she had to catch up on reawakened her headache. Miranda had to close her eyes a moment till it subsided. "I have _work _to do…"

"Fuck work."

Miranda gaped at her tattooed captor, but Jack only shrugged and went right on smirking. "Jack, I swear, if you don't take these things off me _right _now…"

"What? What will you fucking do to me, cheerleader?" Jack began pacing around her, side to side, looking her up and down. "You're in fucking _handcuffs_. You can't do shit."

Miranda narrowed her eyes furiously on Jack's, twisting her hips to keep the tattooed woman in front of her as she paced. "When the Commander finds out you prevented me from completing my assignments…"

"_Psh._" Jack rolled her eyes. "Unlike the rest of you, I'm not afraid of Shepard. The only thing I'd worry about is being bored to sleep by another one of his endless speeches, and, as much as I really don't want to hear one, I can deal with that shit if it means keeping you all locked up tight in those cuffs with your tits practically bulging out of that sexy suit of yours." Her smirk lifted higher. "And actually…"

Jack took a step closer and Miranda instinctively took one back, but her butt pressed against the medical table and cut off her retreat. "Jack, don't!"

But it was too late. Jack's hand darted for her neckline and yanked the zipper there down the middle of her chest. Her suit peeled away, her breasts (clad then only in a black bra) came exposed, and Miranda's cheeks flushed a deep red. "_Jack_!"

"What? It's not like I haven't seen 'em before now, cheerleader. Did you forget about the other night so quickly? Let me refresh your memory: you were on your knees and I was groping at your tits… then you said you wanted to _fuck_ me."

Miranda lowered her eyes, meaning to avoid Jack's and stare at her feet, but found the bare tops of her breasts instead. Her hands instinctively made to zip her top back up, but the plastic cuffs pinched at her skin when she tried pulling them apart, reminding her she didn't have the privileged use of her limbs any longer. She grit her teeth and jerked at her binds, frustrated by her helplessness. Briefly, she considered demanding to be uncuffed again, but when she saw Jack's mischievous smirk still lifting the corner of her lips (_full and red and irresistible when wrapping around the word __'__fuck__'__) _she knew that angle would do her no good. Defeated, Miranda muttered instead, "This is ridiculous… what the hell are you going to do with me, Jack?"

"That's more like it," Jack said. She looked Miranda over. "I'm going to leave you like this."

"_What_!?"

Jack sidled past her and headed for the med-bay doors. "Yeah. I'll be down in my usual spot if you want to… spend some more time together."

Miranda spun on her, glaring. "You're going to _leave _me with my hands locked in cuffs?"

"You can always follow me," Jack suggested with a shrug.

Miranda shook her head. "Not much of a _choice_, is it Jack? Stay here without the use of my hands or go with you… you're- you're practically _kidnapping_ me."

"Hey, listen cheerleader, I can always tie your feet up too and leave your ass here squirming around on the floor." Jack laughed as she pushed into the adjacent hall. "Then someone _else _can find you and… offer a helping hand. Heh. Maybe it will be Shepard. I know how happy you'll be too disappoint our wonderful 'Commander'." She laughed, shrugged, and disappeared around the bulkhead. "See you around, cheerleader."

"Jack!" Miranda called after the tattooed woman, glanced once more briefly at the datapads she had left to decrypt, ignored the thud in her temples the sight awoke, and hurried after Jack with her arms awkwardly bent around behind her back. She found her 'kidnapper' in the Normandy's main lift, just as the doors were sliding closed. Miranda hurried inside and narrowed a glare on Jack, but Jack didn't so much as glance her way; she only leaned back against the wall with her hands behind her head and that infuriating little smirk on her face.

Miranda shook her head in reproach. "When the Commander finds out I didn't finish my work because of this…"

Jack rolled her eyes. "If you say the word 'work' one more time, I swear to God I'll gag you." Miranda opened her mouth to reply, but Jack was a step ahead of her. "_Or _'responsibilities', or 'duties', or, fucking… 'priorities', or any other shit. Just shut the _fuck _up and relax, cheerleader. Shit… _I__'__m _starting to get a headache just hearing about all that bullshit."

Miranda sighed and stared furiously at the ground.

"Look, you said it yourself before," Jack began. "I 'kidnapped' you. Whatever. There's your confession. Your fucking hands are all tied up anyway, you can't _do _any work like that, and I'll take the heat when Shepard comes back. There? You happy? Right now, your only 'responsibility' is being my prisoner."

Miranda glanced Jack's way. Somehow, in her own strange way, Jack _had _actually eased her mind a bit with that suggestion. Miranda tugged again at her cuffed hands, and when they refused to separate, this time she accepted the helplessness of her situation instead of fighting it, and almost at once, the throbbing in her temples subsided a bit. She closed her eyes and made the stiffness leave her posture. _You__'__ve been kidnapped, _she told herself, relaxing. _There__'__s nothing you can do. You__'__re__… __helpless. _Thinking of the word 'helpless' helped… in more ways than one. Miranda glanced at Jack again, and this time saw her tattooed captor not as an obstacle between herself and her work, but as her kidnapper… the one who had held her down and spanked her ass two nights earlier and left it numb.

"I can't tell if that look means you want to punch me or fuck me," Jack said as the two held each other's eyes. "But, honestly? That kind of turns me on."

The lift slowed to a halt and the doors opened on the windows overlooking the Normandy's docking bay. Jack gestured to the hall outside the lift, '_after you_', and Miranda almost went… until a realization came upon her. She held her ground, faced Jack, and put on her most defiant face. "No. You can't make me, Jack. I won't be kidnapped and taken to your little hiding hole. I demand you take these handcuffs off me. _Now_."

Jack stared at her a moment, her eyes shrewdly flicking between Miranda's own. After a moment's search, Jack seemed to understand. "Get the fuck out there," she commanded, taking Miranda by the upper arm and shoving her forward.

Miranda stumbled into the hall, nearly crashing against the glass on the opposite side until Jack got hold of her arm again and yanked her back tight against her body. Miranda barred her teeth and glanced at Jack as she was marched down the hall. "You can't do this to me," she growled, playing her part the best she could. "This is _kidnapping_."

"Shut your mouth," Jack commanded, shoving her into the next room before guiding her down the twist of stairs that lead to her 'quarters' below.

The moment Miranda was marched into the dark bowels of the ship that Jack called home, her whole body tensed with excitement. Images of her and Jack's last encounter flashed quickly across her mind's eye: Miranda on her knees, then crawling, then being kissed tenderly, then being held across Jack's lap as her ass was mercilessly spanked… _punished_. Her breath came a little shallow as she played the night over in her head, and Miranda had to swallow a lump in her throat and collect herself to keep from fumbling over her own two feet, which had suddenly turned as numb as her ass cheeks had been after Jack's assault on them the other night.

Jack wasted no time shoving her across the short length of the room towards the very back, where her little cot was nestled into a dim corner, overhung with pipes, aglow with the soft red pulsing of the engine's underbelly from the next floor up. When they reached it, Miranda was pushed down atop the mattress, and without her hands to aid her fall, collapsed onto her side. She craned her neck around to glare at Jack. "What are you doing with me, Jack? Why did you bring me down here?"

"For the last time, shut the fuck up you mouthy bitch," Jack growled, a playful grin disarming the threat though at once. "Now, are you going to lie there like a good little cheerleader and behave, or do I have to tie your feet up to keep you from running and kicking and shit…?"

_Play your part. _Miranda jerked at her bound wrists. "Don't even _think _about it, Jack."

Jack nodded, went to the storage cabinet across the room, and returned a moment later with another zip-tie, dangling it tauntingly from the end of her finger so that it swayed between Miranda's eyes. "I'm locking your ankles up in these. If you try to kick me…"

"What?" Miranda prodded her on. She was growing so excited by then though, her voice wavered a bit, interfering with the whole 'indignant captive' thing she was trying to play up. "What will you… what will you do to me?"

Instead of answering, Jack simply draped one of her knees across the back of Miranda's own, pinning her legs down against the mattress. Miranda grunted and twisted to escape, but Jack leaned her weight in and pinned her ankles down with a firm grip. When Miranda writhed again, the room filled with a resounding _crack _as Jack spanked her. "Stay _still_," Jack commanded and just like that Miranda was as turned on as she'd been the other night. Her will was torn in halves. One part of her wanted to keep fighting and earn another slap, another wanted only to obey, to show Jack how in control of her she really was. But before she could decide one way or the other, she felt her boots being yanked off, and the faint, perpetual, winds of the engines that pervaded Jack's hiding hole brushed a cool and gentle breeze against the bare soles of her feet. Then the cuffs locked around her ankles, pressing the heels of her feet tightly against each other and binding them in place. Jack grabbed her calves and bent them back towards her knees, then a final strap was looped in between both her wrists and ankles, tightly adjoining all four of her limbs in a strict hogtie.

"_Oh,_" Miranda groaned as Jack tightened the binds. She could barely move her shoulders by then, and below her waist, only her knees were able to slide around a bit atop the mattress. Otherwise, Miranda couldn't budge, not one inch. She squirmed anyway, testing the cuffs that Jack had locked her up in, loving the way they stopped her from doing much of anything. When she settled and laid her head down, the bed sheets were cool against her cheek. The perpetual _thrummmmm _of the idling engines above was soothing enough to fall asleep to. Miranda closed her eyes. Despite the zip-ties keeping her strapped down in a hogtie, she couldn't remembered feeling as 'free' as she did in that moment… at least not since a long, long, time ago.

"You're really fucking into this shit, huh?" Jack broke the silence.

When Miranda opened her eyes, she saw her tattooed kidnapper towering over her with her hands on her hips, a slight smile making her lips even prettier than they usually were. "It's just so… relaxing," Miranda answered, tugging again at her binds to awaken that pleasant sensation of helplessness. "I can't move."

"Nope."

"I can't… _work_."

"Can't do a single fucking thing," Jack told her, "except lie there and wait for me to decide to let you go… or maybe keep you."

Miranda raised her brow. "Keep me?"

"Well why the fuck not?" Jack replied, seating herself on the chair opposite the cot and folding her hands together as she leaned forward and looked over her captive. "I mean, realistically, no one knows I've got you. I can just stuff you in a blanket or some shit, carry you right off the ship, and disappear into the streets of Illium…" Jack's grin widened. "…with my new fuck toy all helpless and tied up tight."

Miranda's heart thundered against her ribcage. She wasn't sure if she was afraid or excited, worried or aroused. Maybe all of them. "Jack…"

"I mean, it's not like you can stop me," Jack went on, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up on the cot beside Miranda's shoulders. "I've got you fucking hogtied. Your ass is mine. I could kidnap you and have my way with you for as long as I want. What do you think of that, cheerleader?"

_What _do _you think of that? _Miranda wasn't sure. Her thoughts were hard to focus at the moment. Her skin felt hot, itchy, and her heart wouldn't stop pounding. She writhed a bit atop the mattress. Jack's binds kept her right where she was.

Jack's eyes probed every inch of her. "You know, there was a time when I would have fucking _dreamed _of having your ass all tied up like this… just so I could throw you off a fucking cliff or something. You've been a pretty big bitch to me ever since I got on this fucking ship, you know that?"

Miranda pressed her lips together. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"And now look what's happened…" Jack muttered with a shake of her head. "You're all mine… and I can't even bring myself to _be _mad at you because you're so fucking hot and I'm so fucking turned on. Your tits… your ass… your legs… shit, even your fucking _feet _are sexy. I want to do so much dirty shit to you right now, cheerleader…" She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes on Miranda's own. "But I still don't trust you."

"I'm yours," Miranda muttered softly against the bedsheet. It was all she could bring herself to say. She _wanted _to be used then. Wanted Jack to have her way; wanted to forget about everything but the warmth between her legs and Jack's big, full, lips.

"Yeah, you say that," Jack began, "but I don't _believe _it. You know what I think? I think you're just some horny bitch who hasn't been fucked in a long-ass time, and now you've got a little kink-crush on the dangerous punk-rock chick aboard the ship with the tattoos and the shaved head." Jack frowned. "Is that what this is? You looking to get some unfulfilled experiment or some shit out of your system?"

For a moment, Miranda could only stare up at her captor, dumbfounded. "I… Jack, I thought that's what this _was_. It was _you _who said the other day that you just wanted to mess around and not get any 'feelings or bullshit' tangled up in it."

"I _know _what I fucking said," Jack snapped, stood, paced the length of the cot. "Don't tell me what I said. I know what I said."

Miranda felt the sensual atmosphere they'd created waning away and a tense, awkward, one rising up in its place. Suddenly, the cuffs locked around her hands and feet, keeping her laid flat on her belly and immobile felt tighter, more strict, and far, far, less enjoyable. She squirmed a bit, but couldn't get her head around enough to look at Jack as the woman paced down by her feet.

"You know, have you ever fucking considered that I'm not _into _just casual, throwaway, sex?" Jack asked. "Did you just assume I'm some whore because of the way I look?"

Miranda gaped. "Jack, what… you _said-__"_

"I told you I know what I said!" Jack cut her short. "But that was before. Before… shit, before I knew if you were fucking with me or not."

"I'm not 'fucking' with you."

"Yes you are," Jack said, returning to her seat across the cot and leaning up onto her knees to glare down at Miranda. "Yes you fucking are."

"_How!?_"

"Because I'm _into you_!" Jack shouted, throwing her hands up. "Alright? There. Fuck you. I'm into you. I don't fucking want to be, but I am. All this shit… argh, fuck it!" She stood so suddenly, the chair she'd been seated in flung back against the table and tumbled to its side. Jack cursed, cursed the chair, cursed Miranda again, and went back to pacing around the room.

Miranda couldn't even wrap her head around what all that meant or _could _mean, she only balled her hands to fists, suddenly wishing very much that they weren't locked up in handcuffs. "Jack, I really don't want to have this conversation right now while I'm _hogtied. _Could you please get me out of this?"

"This is the _best_ fucking time to have this conversation," Jack retorted. "You can't go anywhere."

"Jack, let me out of this…"

"Ask me to untie you again and I'll gag you. I'm for real."

Miranda sighed. She was no longer aroused, just agitated. "What exactly do you want to talk about then, Jack? Was this your plan all along? Trick me down here and tie me up so I _have _to deal with this…. this 'situation'?"

"No. I'm not a manipulative, conniving, bitch like you. I act on impulse. I don't think we can take this any further unless we get this shit straightened out, so that's exactly what we're going to do."

Miranda craned her head around to fix Jack with an indignant glare. "Are you _serious? _You just called me a 'conniving bitch', and now you want to talk about _us_?"

"You _are_ a fucking conniving bitch," Jack growled, marching up beside her head and jabbing a finger in her face. "You came down here and got my head all messed up. You fucked with me."

"Jack, grow up. You're 'fucking' with yourself. I never lied to you about what I wanted. I was never dishonest. Now take these handcuffs off me. Right now."

Jack pursed her lips and threw her arms out to her sides. "I warned you." She spun on her heel and stomped off across the room to the big trunk near the foot of the cot. After throwing it open and rummaging around inside for a few moments, she smirked and stood straight again, now holding a bunched-up pair of socks.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Miranda protested the moment she saw the big bundle of white, understanding completely what Jack's intentions were. "Jack… you're not seriously going to put them in my _mouth_, are you?"

"I warned you."

"No," Miranda demanded. "Jack, _no_. Alright. We can talk. You don't have to gag me."

"You've talked enough." And with that, Jack lowered herself to the cot and quickly jammed the socks between Miranda's lips before she could jerk her head away. She worked them deep between her teeth with her fingers, ignoring Miranda's muffled, furious, protests, and then slipped a third, unrolled, sock around her head to fasten and secure the gag in place so there'd be no spitting it out.

When it was done, Miranda's mouth was filled with Jack's socks, and when she made to shout, the only sound she managed was a humiliatingly incomprehensible "_Grmmmmfphrm!_"

Jack's answer was plain enough to see in her taunting smirk. "Better."

Miranda glared, fuming.

"I need to take a fucking walk and cool off," Jack explained, checking the knot she'd tightened behind Miranda's head to keep her shut up, fidgeting with it till it pulled just a bit tighter around her mouth. "You're going to lay there, _quietly_, and figure out what the next step is in this fucked-up 'relationship' or whatever it is between us. Either it's over… or you're going to look at me as more than just some piece of shit to help get your rocks off when your too stressed out."

"_Mrnm gmmm fmm_!" Miranda protested.

"Shut up. You know, a gag suits you. Mouthy bitch. I really should just kidnap your ass. I'd love to keep you quiet for a few weeks until you learn to _stay _quiet."

Miranda jerked at her binds, but the cuffs held tight, and the only thing she accomplished was pinching the plastic painfully against her own skin. Her nostrils flared as she bit down on the gag Jack had shoved in her mouth and glared up at the woman.

"You don't look happy," Jack told her. "You probably hate me right now, truthfully. Whatever. You'll get over it. When I come back down here though, you need to have your shit figured out. Either you're _with _me… or I don't want shit to do with you." She stood. "And you better think hard on that shit. There won't be a second chance to make your choice."

"_Hmf mrfm!_" Miranda grumbled, shaking her head. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of being left hogtied and gagged in the bowels of the ship. Her protests didn't slow Jack down in the slightest however, and before long, Jack had gone, and she was all alone; hogtied, forced silent, utterly helpless, and all alone. And she couldn't be any angrier. The throbbing in her temples came harder than it ever had. She balled her fists so tight her nails dug into her palms. She pulled at her hands, at her feet, at every angle and every position she could, but it was no use: she wasn't going anywhere. The socks Jack had gagged her with were dampened in her mouth almost immediately, and Miranda could only shove them up against her teeth with her tongue and angrily squirm her lips around, frustrated more than anything by the fact that she couldn't utter a single _word, _let alone call out for help. She settled down, but the quiet made her even _more _frustrated, and it wasn't long before she was thrashing about again, biting down so hard on her gag, the soft fabric bunched all the way up to her nose.

Jack had told her to think, and she'd certainly left enough time for it. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to almost an _hour_. All the while, Miranda could only lay there, useless and drenched in her own fury, thoughts inexorably coursing through her head. She thought of Jack and how much of a fool she was to trust her. She thought of Commander Shepard and how she'd let him down by not completing her assignment. She thought of the consequences for her failure. She thought of being perfect, hating even the _word_ 'perfect' until her temples throbbed. Then her thoughts turned to Jack again. Of course they did: Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.

She was actually trying not to think at _all _when the tattooed woman finally returned to the room just a little over an hour later. Her eyes had been closed, but the moment she heard Jack's boots thudding against the floor, Miranda snapped them open and craned her head back, eager to glare and fix her frustration on her captor.

Jack marched right up to her, dropped to a knee beside the cot, and immediately worked the gag out of her mouth. Before Miranda could say a word though, Jack took her by the back of the head, gently, and brought their lips together. Miranda fought it only for a moment, then the warm and moist sensation of Jack's lips against her own took over, and she could only kiss back. Their tongues found one another, came apart, found each other again. They went on kissing. Each time Miranda thought they were done, Jack pulled her in tighter and kissed her more passionately. It was different than their first kiss. It felt as if… as if there was a sort of 'desperation' on Jack's lips. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

When Jack finally relented, pulling away a few inches from Miranda's face so their eyes could meet, they stared at one another. Then Jack slipped a box-cutter out from her waistband, leaned over, and cut Miranda free; first her feet, then her hands. Miranda stretched her limbs gratefully before rolling to her back and scooting up to the edge of the bed. Jack had remained on one knee.

"Well…" her kidnapper said quietly. "…what's it going to be?"

Miranda held her eyes. "You hogtied me. You _gagged_ me. You left down here for an _hour_, Jack…"

Jack's focus didn't waver in the slightest. She went on staring that piercing look of hers into Miranda's eyes. "So… what's it going to be?"

"You're messed up," Miranda confessed. She wanted to hate the shaved-headed woman kneeling before her, but she couldn't; she just couldn't. Instead, she simply repeated, "You are messed _up_."

Jack remained silent, staring, waiting.

Miranda sighed. "So… I guess that means I'm messed up too." She reached for Jack's chin, cupped it, and leaned in close.

And then they kissed.

And they did not stop for quite some time.


	4. Chapter 4

As Illium's star sunk below the horizon, the myriad of spired towers the asari had erected around the planet's capital of Nos Astra rose like dark fingers clawing at the fuchsia sky. Their windows glittered and gleamed against the sunset, as if the monstrous obelisks were winking as night set upon them. Not far below, lights began blooming into existence, painting the hazy line of the horizon and the bellies of its spires with a soft golden glow. A string of cruisers came wrapping around a tower near to where Miranda stood watching, their tail ends dragging throttle lines as they angled around the glass corner of the building and dipped below an overarching bridge. Atop the bridge, a massive statue rose on a white marble plinth. It was sculpted in the form of two asari, hand-in-hand, embracing one another and gazing into each other's eyes like two lovers without a care in the galaxy; their naked flesh painted a pretty shade of blue, the eyes themselves deep-set ovals of lapis lazuli. Though the asari were technically a genderless species, they certainly _looked _female, and as Miranda stared at them, she could not help but think of the two lovers as herself and Jack. _Do we look the same when we hold each other? _She wondered. She didn't know the answer, but the thought was pleasant enough to bring a smile to her face.

Miranda glanced to the big pale oval overhanging the commerce district behind her that scrolled various measurements of time, including Earth-standard. Jack was already ten minutes late. Miranda sighed and turned herself around to lean against the smooth railing that wrapped the terrace she stood upon, drumming her fingers impatiently against its surface. Illium was a densely-populated planet, and people of varying genders and species (though mostly asari) traipsed along the city's many walkways and paths that wound in and out of the buildings and markets, shoulder-to-shoulder, some chatting amicably with their group or partners, some marching by with determined strides. Miranda narrowed her eyes into the crowd, trying to spot her… girlfriend? She wasn't sure exactly what to think of Jack as yet. Whatever title they shared, however, Jack had made it very clear the last time they spoke that they were _together_, and Miranda had been given specific direction not to even _consider _looking at someone else 'romantically'. It was… cute, in a way, and Miranda had enjoyed the 'order' enough to obey it. That was another thing she was enjoying more and more with Jack: offering her obedience.

After scanning the crowd for a little longer, she found her partner edging her way forward down a long walkway that hugged against an asari corporate tower. Jack was dressed in a dark jacket with the sleeves rolled up to bunch at her elbows, matching dark pants, and her thick-soled combat boots. She kept her back to the tower as much as she could, and each person she passed with her head down and her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, she cast a wary sideways glance. It was… sad to see, really. Miranda had never known a person so cautious and mistrustful as Jack, though of course she had good reason. Every time Miranda thought of the hardships and cruelties Jack had been through in her life… she wanted nothing more than to squeeze the woman in her arms.

As Jack neared, her eyes found Miranda, and she cut hard across the stream of passing people to press herself to the railing and follow it along the last few meters. "Hey," she greeted as the two came together.

_She__'__s so pretty, _Miranda thought as the last bit of sunlight kissed the side of Jack's face, bringing it aglow with soft orange-red streaks and accentuating the woman's cheekbones and jawline. _It__'__s in her eyes, though. That__'__s where her beauty begins. _They were dark eyes, rimmed with eyeliner, overhung with eye_shadow_, and Miranda felt there was as much tenderness there as there was passion and fire. Jack squinted. "What the fuck are you staring at?"

"Nothing, Jack. I was just… daydreaming." She considered telling Jack she was late, but thought better of it. What did it really matter? She was there now. Instead, she reached for Jack's hand and cupped it in her own. When she leaned in to kiss her, though, Jack leaned away.

"I didn't tell you you could kiss me."

"…oh."

"Yeah." Jack glanced mistrustfully around the crowd streaming past them again and licked her lips. "Come over here," she commanded, turned, and followed the railing down a bit further to where it cornered and was nestled between two oblong strips of stone with marbled tops. Once the two of them were situated between the flanking barriers, Jack reached for Miranda's waist, pulled her forward, and spun her around to press her belly against the railing.

"Jack, what-"

"Don't talk," Jack instructed, pressing herself close against Miranda's back. "Put your hands on the railing."

Miranda did. A moment later, Jack's own hands slipped around her sides and covered them. The woman's slender fingers rubbed at her knuckles, and Miranda felt some of her hair brush aside from her neck as Jack leaned close to nuzzle her. She closed her eyes.

"The place doesn't open until full dark," Jack said quietly. "We have some time to spare."

"Where is-"

"I said don't talk," Jack repeated. One of her hands abandoned its post atop Miranda's to reach up to her chest and pinch hard at her nipple through the fabric of her suit. Miranda gasped and winced and instinctively tried turning around until Jack thrust her hips forward a bit and kept her pinned against the railing. "You're going to have to learn, cheerleader, there's going to be consequences for not obeying me from here on out. I told you I'm into you, and believe me, I _am_… but if we're going to be together… you're going to do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Miranda answered curtly. Her heart was quickening with excitement already. She was _eager_ to obey. Somehow, there was nothing more liberating in the world than doing so… for Jack, at least.

"Good." Jack's hand returned to hers and her fingers hooked beneath to rub softly at her palm. "Did you finish all your precious fucking 'assignments'?"

"I did." She had spent half the previous night, in fact, working tirelessly to make sure she'd have all her assignments finished so that she and Jack could have at least one night to themselves. Shepard was still busy with his asari friend, but there was no telling when the Commander might call the crew back to the Normandy for departure.

"And did you do the other thing I told you to last night?"

Miranda closed her eyes and focused on Jack's fingers rubbing at her palm. "…yes." The 'other' thing Jack had instructed her to do was after she'd laid down for bed, to lie flat on her back and reach her hand down between her legs. Then Jack had told her to rub herself and think of her, but _not _work herself into orgasm. She was very specific about that part. Miranda had obeyed the order in full, though it took quite a bit of willpower not to finish herself off, especially after everything that had happened the last few days.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Miranda swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt dry. "…yes, Jack. I enjoyed it."

"Did you come?"

"No."

"Good. I don't want you coming. You'll be _begging _me for an orgasm long before I'm ready to let you have one."

_God, she knows every little perfect thing to say to drive me crazy, _Miranda thought, feeling her arousal sweeping through her body at the notion of being denied orgasm.

They stayed like that awhile; Miranda pressed firmly, but not tightly, against the railing that overlooked Nos Astra's illuminated streets and massive towers, Jack with her nose and mouth kept close to Miranda's neck and her fingers rubbing gently over Miranda's hands. The sun had fallen by then, and only a faint crimson glow on the horizon was left to let the world know it had been there at all. Above, the sky was dampening to the inky blue-black of an Illium night. The stars were out.

"It's about time," Jack said. "They're probably open by now."

Miranda pulled a deep breath of cool, crisp, air, letting it fill her lungs and clear her head. _There__'__s no turning back after this, _she thought. Jack was taking her to some sort of asari sex shop, with the intention of purchasing… well, she wasn't quite sure in truth. Jack had mentioned needing more secure restraints though, and Miranda surmised they'd likely be leaving with at least some sort of handcuffs or other rope… maybe something for her to be gagged with as well. Jack was always telling her to shut her mouth, it only made sense that she'd find something to _keep _it shut. But what else Jack might find for them to 'play' with, Miranda hadn't the faintest idea. The concept was exciting and frightening and, most of all, sexy. "I'm ready," Miranda said.

"I didn't ask. And I didn't tell you you could speak either." Jack's hand reached for her chest and gave her nipple a pinch again through her suit, harder this time.

Miranda sucked air through her grit teeth to keep from yelping. The pinch was as wonderful as it was painful.

"You're a disobedient little bitch, aren't you?" Jack asked. "Maybe I should bend you over right here in front of everyone and spank that big ass of yours."

_Do it, _Miranda nearly said, but on a second's consideration, the idea of that sort of public display was… not something she was particularly comfortable with. She kept her mouth shut.

"Turn around," Jack commanded.

Miranda did so slowly, obediently. When she found Jack's face, her gaze was inexorably drawn to the woman's eyes again. _So dark, so pretty._

"You're doing that staring shit again," Jack growled. "What the fuck… what are you thinking about? I'm not asking this time, either. Tell me. _Now_."

Miranda fidgeted a bit, hesitating, then confessed, "I… I think you have beautiful eyes."

Jack's cheeks flushed and the tattooed woman, momentarily, looked out of her _own _'comfort zone'. She glanced sideways, shuffled her feet, folded her arms across her chest. It was strange to see Jack like that, but Miranda didn't mind. She liked knowing that under the whole 'tough bitch' act, there was just a person under there; a person who, like anyone else, got nervous, got afraid… maybe even wanted to love and be loved. "Whatever," Jack mumbled after a moment of silence. She gestured to the walkway beside their little alcove. "Go on. Move your ass."

Miranda did, but she'd only managed three steps before Jack caught her by the arm, turned her enough to square up their shoulders, and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. It was brief and passionate, and Jack was quick to break apart and give Miranda a little nudge to get her feet moving again. If Miranda didn't know better, though, she'd say there was a little 'thank you' in that kiss; gratitude, in a 'Jack' sort of way.

The sex shop was a few streets deeper into the commerce district. The two of them walked in silence towards it, Jack keeping just behind Miranda and occasionally putting her hand on the small of Miranda's back to guide her through traffic or instruct her a turn was coming up they needed to take. When the roads thinned from their busy crowds a bit, and the street lights glowed just a bit dimmer in the 'less respectable' part of Nos Astra, Jack moved up beside her and slipped her hand in Miranda's, lacing fingers. They walked like that awhile, hand-in-hand, and for just a moment, Miranda felt like they were in a truly normal relationship instead of… well, whatever strange thing they'd found themselves in. They came upon the shop after a long, narrow, alley. It was called "_Avara__'__s Corner_", the title spelled out in bright neon tubing that flashed and flickered and sent pretty lines of red and blue and purple shimmering against the city street below it. The storefront was all glass, but it was smoked with some sort of opaque material that only allowed the faintest of images to bleed through. Within, Miranda could only see blurry shapes.

"Do you think there'll be other… 'shoppers' inside at this time?" Miranda asked as they pulled up to the end of the alley, aglow from the neons across the street.

"You really need to learn what 'don't talk' means," Jack told her. "And so what if there is? You scared, cheerleader? Nervous? Don't want to be seen with some inked-up bald chick? Will that ruin your fucking precious image of 'perfect'?"

Miranda frowned. "You know that has nothing to do with it, Jack. It's just… this 'kink' of mine, or whatever it is… I'm not entirely comfortable with other people knowing about it just yet."

Jack laughed. "God, I _am_ going to enjoy breaking that prude little shell you wear so proudly around yourself." She reached out and took Miranda by the wrist. "Don't open your mouth in there. Not a word unless I say so. There probably won't be anybody but Avara. She'll gawk at you a little, hard not to with that face and body of yours, but she's harmless." Jack glanced at the store. "Now, give me your credit chit."

"_Mine_?"

Jack rolled her eyes. "Yes _yours_, cheerleader. What? You think _I _have any money? I'm on Shepard's payroll. He gives me just enough to not feel like a fucking slave, but not so much that I can have any fun or… get in any trouble. But you…" Jack narrowed her eyes on Miranda's. "I imagine you have that nice little Cerberus credit pouring in. Must be nice."

"I-"

"Be quiet and just give it to me." Jack stuck out her hand. "I'm not asking."

Miranda reached behind her waistband with her free hand, worked the credit chit out of its sewn-in pocket, and handed it to Jack, who was quick to snatch it away and tuck it inside her jacket.

"Behave in there and you might get this back… _maybe_."

They crossed the street and entered below the big twin doors beneath the neon sign. Inside, the cool breeze of the open night was exchanged for a single, murky, room that stretched longways down a dozen meters, sectioned off with two rows of shoulder-high flanking shelves. Electronic candles burned in niches along the walls, turned up bright enough to cast the place in a flickering orangish hue. Beside the doors, long purple sticks were ablaze, sending tendrils of fragrant smoke up to coalesce at the high ceiling. The scent reminded Miranda of fresh lilacs. The store's sole customer was a stocky batarian at the very end of the room who cast a cursory glance their way before returning his four eyes to whatever he'd been browsing on one of the shelves; what any of them contained though, it was too dark for Miranda to ascertain. Only the front of the store was brightly lit, where an asari in a gown of flowing silks was stationed behind a kiosk. She was a tall, slender, thing with an exotic shade of purple skin and a tattoo on her face that ringed her left eye in barbs. Her nose was pierced up one side with a trail of opals; her lips were painted cobalt blue.

"Jack," she greeted upon spotting them, a amiable smile spreading across her face.

"Avara," Jack returned with a nod.

The asari's eyes floated over Jack's shoulder and landed on Miranda. "My, my, my… what is this prize you've brought me?"

"_My _prize."

The asari swept a long look over Miranda, making her fidget uncomfortably. The clerk chuckled and said, "She's gorgeous."

"She's _mine_," Jack reminded the asari. "And I don't like people gawking at her."

Avara's smile widened. "Not even an old acquaintance?"

"_Especially _not an old acquaintance."

The asari pursed her lips. "A shame."

"You'll get over it." Jack took a look around the store, her eyes landing on the batarian. "_Hey_!" She suddenly shouted down his way. "I seen that, you fuck! You were just staring at her!"

_She__'__s so protective of me. _Miranda turned to see the batarian throw his arms up defensively. "No I wasn't!"

"Fuck you, you were. If you look at her again, you'll have three eyes instead of four, you ugly bastard. I'll be nice and let you pick which one I dig out with my fingers."

All four of the alien's eyes widened incredulously. "Are you serious, you psychotic bitch?"

Jack lifted a fist. It came aglow with biotic influence; blue energy crackling around her knuckles and wrist. "Does it look like I'm serious?"

The batarian stared a moment longer before throwing his arms up in frustration. He tossed whatever he'd been looking at back to the shelf and stormed out of the store muttering something that sounded like '_crazy bitch_'. Jack watched him go, not quelling the biotic glow around her fist until the alien was beyond the doors and back outside.

The asari clerk did not look pleased. "You just cost me a customer, Jack."

"Relax. You're going to make out far better with me than you would with a _dozen _ugly fucking batarians." She glanced at Mirada and smirked. "I'm in a spending mood today."

"Oh?" The asari's demeanor shifted at once, annoyance fading to eager curiosity. "Is that so? What are you looking for, Jack? Some nice, big, rubber cock to slide up that pretty little slit I'm sure your girlfriend has between her shapely thighs?"

"Keep your comments about her to yourself," Jack warned the asari before answering, "And, yeah… I'll probably get a dildo or two. But I need something else more important. Restraints."

"Restraints?" Avara glanced briefly towards Miranda. "This woman is your _sub_?"

Jack nodded, and Miranda couldn't help but notice a little hint of pride in the half-smirk she wore. Miranda nearly smiled herself, but bit her lip to keep it from her mouth. She didn't want the asari knowing… well, anything about her, really.

The asari said, "Oh, you _are _one lucky girl, Jack."

"An impatient one, too," Jack retorted. "So bring me some handcuffs. Two pair. Strong ones. And rope, cotton, lots of it."

_To use on me,_ Miranda thought, the notion that she had to just stand there and listen as restraints for her were ordered was exciting. She felt the warmth stir between her legs and had to take a breath to compose herself.

"And gags," Jack called after the asari as she moved down the long shelf behind her kiosk. "I'm not sure what I want to shut her up with yet, but definitely bring me at least a ball gag. A big one for her big mouth." Jack stared at Miranda with an amorous, mischievous, twinkle in her dark eyes. "I can't wait to watch you drool all over yourself, cheerleader."

Miranda swallowed.

"A big gag for a big mouth," the asari echoed as she returned with a bundle of rope, two pairs of black handcuffs, and a big, red, ball with leather straps running through it and a buckle attached to one end. "Though, you're sub seems quiet enough to me. She hasn't said a word."

"She's a little nervous right now," Jack explained, "but if we were alone, she'd been yapping on and on." She grinned and plucked the ball gag from the counter to dangle before Miranda. "This will fix that problem."

"Should I fetch a gag for your mouth too, Jack?" The asari asked with a playful smile. "Goddess knows you could use a little 'shutting up' yourself from time to time."

Jack frowned. "It would take a lot more than a gag to keep _me _shut up."

"It would be a start."

"Fuck you." Jack looked around the wall behind the kiosk. Miranda looked with her. There were mostly dildos hung from little silver pegs, some long, some short, some attached to straps, others attached to gags. Jack pointed out a little, wide, blue thing. "There."

"A butt plug?" Avara questioned as she fetched it from the wall. "You're going to plug that pretty sub's bottom up? Poor girl."

"Just give me what the fuck I tell you I want."

Miranda's ass cheeks clenched instinctively. She'd never even _seen _a 'butt plug', let alone be made to _wear _one. She wondered if it would be uncomfortable, or if it would be… something pleasant. Her hand fell to her butt and rubbed it above the fabric of her suit.

"And the strap-on," Jack continued, pointing out a long, clear-blue, dildo affixed to a crotch harness. "The double-sider too," she added, gesturing to a pink rubber thing with two bulbous ends.

There was sweat in Miranda's palms then. She rubbed it off the thighs of her suit. Her stomach felt as if it were filled with butterflies.

"The vibrator," Jack went on. "The smaller one. Yeah. The studded leather belt beside it too. No, the one with the crotch strap." The asari removed a thick belt with steel rings affixed around its rim every few inches and laid it before Jack. Jack hoisted it up and jingled it. Her eyes drifted to Miranda and that mischievous look came across her face again. "Come here."

Miranda, for the first time, didn't listen. "Why?" She asked instead, glancing nervously at the asari clerk. "We can't… we can't do anything _here_, Jack."

"Get your ass over here. _Now_." Jack pointed to the floor beside her.

Miranda returned her gaze to Avara. The asari was watching with a satisfied little smirk tugging at her lips. Miranda stepped tentatively across the gap between Jack and herself. When she was in grabbing range, Jack grabbed. She got her by the wrist and tugged her close. Then she popped the buckles on the belt holding both it and the crotch strap together. Miranda made to protest, but Jack's stern look made her hold her tongue, and before she knew it, Jack had looped the belt around her waist and buckled it back up. In truth, it wasn't so bad. It might even pass as a regular old belt if no one stared at it for too long. Then Jack pulled the crotch strap between her legs and that was the end of that. The leather strip came up tight against her as Jack yanked it into its buckle.

"Tight enough?" She asked.

"Yes, Jack, I don't think-" Jack pulled it just a bit tighter, forcing the strap up firmly against Miranda's crotch and riding up the crack of her ass, and Miranda could only let out a little moan and close her eyes.

"Tight enough?" Jack asked again.

"_Yes! _I said yes before, it-" Tighter again it was fastened until Miranda shut up and bit her lip.

Jack's question came again, "Tight enough?"

This time, Miranda only nodded, and that seemed to satisfy Jack. With the belt fastened firmly around her, Miranda shifted a bit on the balls of her feet, but when she did, the crotch strap pressed against her clit and the sensation filled her entire lower body with a warm excitement.

"Careful now, Jack," Avara offered. "You're sub can get herself off if she starts moving around too much with that crotch strap so tight."

"She won't come unless I tell her to," Jack answered. "And stop staring at her. Get me that big paddle at the end of the wall there. The little horse whip too."

Vaguely, Miranda was aware those things were meant to spank her with, but every little movement she made was rubbing her crotch strap against her clit, and she had to focus on keeping her feet and hips steady to control the pleasurable sensation… before _it _took control of her.

"What's this panel on the cuffs for?" Jack asked, ignoring the little moan that escaped Miranda's mouth when she accidentally moved a bit.

"It's a thumbprint scanner," Avara explained. "You can set the handcuffs up to only release by laying your thumb there. It's useful when you don't want any troublesome parties freeing your captive. The person who locks them is the only one who can unlock them."

Jack's brow lifted curiously. "Is that so? I want to put these on her then."

"Go right ahead." The asari grinned. "I'll sit back and enjoy the free show."

"Enjoy it too much and I'll handcuff _you _to the pole outside before I go," Jack warned before turning to Miranda. "Put your hands out together."

"You can't handcuff me here, Jack!" Miranda protested.

"I can. I am. Put your hands together _now_."

What choice did she really have? Miranda obeyed, pressing her wrists together and offering them to Jack, who quickly snatched them up and locked the black steel of the cuffs around them. She pressed her thumb against the scanner. It clicked a moment later and Jack asked, "That's it?"

"That's it. No one's taking those off her now until you want them off her."

The satisfaction was clear enough upon Jack's face. She nodded, brought Miranda's freshly-cuffed hands down to her waist, and locked them into one of the loops of her belt, fastening her wrists securely to her own waist. Miranda tugged at them only hard enough to realize doing so moved the crotch strap around between her legs, and that was enough to keep her still immediately.

"Your girlfriend is even better looking in bondage," the asari said. Her eyes flicked to Jack. "Now, I'm hoping you can actually _pay _for all this stuff, Jack, and you're not planning something stupid like robbing me…"

"We're 'old acquaintances', remember? Here," she pulled Miranda's credit chit from her jacket. "I expect an 'old acquaintance' discount, too."

"A credit chit?" The asair said, seemingly impressed as she took and scanned the thing in her kiosk. "I was half-expecting you to try and barter with some stolen merchandise or something. Has the 'psychotic biotic' finally legitimized herself?"

"Fuck you. And scan it again," Jack said, ignoring the asari's question. "I want a collar and leash too."

Miranda's eyes widened on Jack. "A collar and a _leash_?" She tugged at her cuffed hands. The crotch strap rubbed her clit. She clenched her teeth and composed herself. "Jack… you can't be serious. Are you really going to make me walk back to the Normandy at the end of a _leash_? And… this crotch strap… you have to take it off, or at least loosen it. Please."

"Why? Does it hurt?" Jack asked, turning to her at once, her eyes sweeping Miranda from head to toe.

Miranda shifted a bit uncomfortably. "It willsoon."

Jack didn't hesitate in the slightest. She reached around the back of Miranda's waist and loosened the crotch strap two notches. At once, the pressure removed itself from her clit, and Miranda breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"You don't have to wait to tell me shit like that," Jack told her. "I want to _control_ you… I don't want to hurt you."

There was a sincerity in Jack's voice that Miranda hadn't been prepared for. She fumbled with her words a moment before simply saying, "…okay. Thank you." But when Jack turned from her again, she allowed herself a smile.

The asari brought out a selection of collars and leashes. Jack rummaged around a bit before plucking a thin black collar from the counter and a matching adjustable leash. When she faced Miranda with them, Miranda held her breath and listened as her heart drummed in her chest. Jack stepped in close to her, reach up to her neck, and carefully worked the ends of the collar beneath her hair, taking care not to get it pinched inside as she closed off the loop. She fastened it around Miranda's neck just enough to make it snug, but not tight, and after buckling it in place, hooked the leash in the collar's central ring. Finished, she stepped back and admired her work.

"Well?" Jack asked as she fixed her with a satisfied smirk. "How does it feel to be my fucking property?" She gave the leash a little tug, forcing Miranda to come forward a step. "Now you'll behave, cheerleader. …now you don't have a choice."

Miranda closed her hands to fists and tugged at the short slack of the handcuffs. Immediately, she felt the restriction on her wrists, on her waist, her crotch, her neck. She was powerless, tamed, controlled in full. She was nervous and excited and turned on. And, above all, she was Jack's; all Jack's.

"She seems to be enjoying herself so far," the asari chimed in.

Jack turned a frown on the clerk. "She'll enjoy herself a lot more when we're far away from this shop and that obnoxious stare you've had on her ass since we came in."

Avara put up her hands defensively. "Who? Me? Your words wound an old friend, Jack."

Jack snatched the credit chit back from the asari and tucked it away before snatching up their bag of… 'toys' from the counter. "Be thankful that's the only 'wound' I'm leaving you with. See you around, Avara."

"Goodbye, Jack." The asari smiled at Miranda. "And goodbye to you too, lucky girl. If you and Jack ever split and you need a new Dom…"

Jack rolled her eyes, wrapped Miranda's leash around her fist a bit to cut the slack between them, and strolled right by her to the exit. Miranda had to get herself turned around quickly and get her feet moving to keep up with the leash's strict length. At the doors, she said, "You're really going to take me out there like this?"

"That's right."

Miranda swallowed. "And… if someone sees us…"

"The asari are a liberal people. They're not going to give a fuck. If some other creep looks at you a little too hard… I'll break their jaw. Alright?"

What else could she say? "…alright, Jack."

Full dark has long since descended upon Nos Astra by the time they stepped back into the street. Glowing domes dappled the sidewalks intermittently in either direction of '_Avara__'__s Corner_', but where they stood was steeped in shadow; only the faint glow of the neon tubing overhead to paint the street. There was a faint breeze moving down the road, and as Miranda stood, cuffed, collared, and leashed, it swept over her and sent a chill along her back and her hair billowing across her face. Jack stepped before her and gently brushed it out of her eyes and away from her mouth. Their eyes met then, and Jack stared a moment, her expression calm and pensive, before leaning in and kissing her on the lips. Miranda's hands instinctively made to take Jack in her arms, but the cuffs kept them tethered down to her waist, and she could only meet Jack's embrace with her own lips.

When Jack finally pulled back, she was biting at her lip and fidgeting her fingers around Miranda's leash. She dropped her gaze and struggled with her words a moment before asking, "Did you… did you mean what you said before? About… like, my eyes and shit."

Miranda smiled. "I meant it, Jack. They're pretty."

Jack kept those pretty eyes on her own feet as she said, "…I'm going to ask this one more time. And you better tell me the truth, cheerleader. Are we just fucking around here or are you actually into me?" She lifted her eyes, and their was a vulnerability there that Miranda had never seen in the woman. "Because before this shit goes any further, I need to know. Straight up. Don't fuck with me."

"I told you-"

"I know what you told me, but… shit, what about Shepard? Or the _rest _of those fucks on the Normandy? I mean… shit, cheerleader, have you ever even been with another woman? I never took you as the type." She looked Miranda over. "Then, I guess I never took you as the type to enjoy being spanked and dominated either." She sighed, shook her head, shuffled her feet. "I mean… this is all so sudden. It feels… fucking _good_, but… I don't know. I don't like getting close to people. Especially not Cerberus people."

"I take my orders from Commander Shepard now, Jack, not Cerberus. The same as you. And I don't care what the Commander or any of the rest of them think. There's no policy against relationships aboard the Normandy. I mean, what more do you want me to prove to you, Jack? I'm here with you, in public, locked in handcuffs. There's a collar around my neck that you're holding by a leash. You think I would just do this with anyone? I'm doing it with _you_… because I trust you. And because, yes, I'm 'into you' Jack. I think you're pretty and strong and brave, but sweet at times too. I know you don't want people to see that side of you, but it comes through every now and then."

It looked like Jack was nearly about to smile before she bit at her lip instead and dropped her gaze. She reached for Miranda's cuffed hands and took them in her own, sliding her fingers along the cold steel that wrapped her wrists. "Alright, cheerleader. Alright."

"Are you going to take me back to the ship now?"

"I'm going to do whatever I want with you," Jack told her, lifting her face so Miranda could see the playful smirk and mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Any objections?"

Miranda smiled. "No."

Jack tugged at her leash, forcing Miranda to take a step closer. When she pulled a second time, Miranda walked right into her waiting lips. Jack wrapped her up in her arms and pulled her tight against her own body as they kissed.

They stayed like that awhile in the streets of Nos Astra, with the stars overhead and the cool breeze drifting down the road; every last bit of stress and worry lifting from Miranda like a heavy coat shrugged off her shoulders. Miranda's thoughts turned briefly to the statue she'd glimpsed earlier of the two asari lovers held in one another's embrace, and though she couldn't see what Jack and herself looked like then, she didn't think the two of them were probably all that different looking.

Not that different at all.


	5. Chapter 5

She edged slowly around the sink basin, the Normandy's bathroom tiling cool beneath the soles of her bare feet, and the mirror greeted her. It was a long, polished thing that spread its reflective surface from wall-to-wall, ceiling-to-floor, and left not one bit of her hidden from its piercing gaze. Miranda took another tentative step forward and tugged at the hem of the pink nightie Jack bought her as she examined herself. The nightie was snug around her curves, as if it had been custom fitted for her frame; the pink silk flowing in long tendrils down around her matching pink panties, splitting at the seam to reveal the milky bare flesh of her inner thighs. Loose sleeves ran the length of her arms, ending in a frilly _V-_cut around her wrists, and in the center, the ends of the nightie were knotted between her breasts. They were shapely in her suit, but with only the thin spread of the silk to hug at the curves of them then, Miranda thought her breasts were far more… appetizing. _I hope, _she thought, adjusting a bit of silk slack dangling down to tickle at her bare midriff. It was Jack who demanded this all, and it was Jack who she'd need please if she were to avoid punishment. Miranda met her own eyes, pale blue and rimmed with just a bit of eyeliner, and couldn't contain a smirk. _That__'__s _if_ I want to avoid_ _punishment at all__…_

She made a final few adjustments, tugging here and tucking there where the silk grew unruly, and pulled a long breath to still her nerves. It seemed she'd been doing that often lately, but it was necessary all the same. Jack always found a way to make her nervous, despite the tedious years of training she'd spent learning to handle pressure. Of course, no one had prepared her for _Jack_… no one, truly, ever could. The young woman was volatile, a true element of chaos in a life otherwise controlled, and Miranda, despite the occasional stir of trepidation, could not be happier they'd found one another. She arched her back a bit to press her chest more snugly against the nightie and saw the little dapples of her nipples peaking up under the silk surface. Jack would like that; she was always pinching and groping at Miranda's nipples, and putting them on display would only serve to awaken her lust more profoundly. Miranda's smirk lifted just a tad higher. She was the submissive in their relationship, there was no denying that, and she liked it… but being able to 'control' Jack from time to time in that way with her body… well, she liked _that_ too.

The bathroom doors slid apart for her as Miranda padded barefoot into the adjoining hall, leaving the small pile of her clothes and boots behind and venturing out clad only in the matching nightie and panties Jack had instructed her to. The Normandy was still, for the most apart, emptied, but that did not stop Miranda from walking as quickly as she could back to her office, one arm draped across her breasts to stop them from shaking in the loose grip of the silk wrapped around them as she went. The ship's S.I., Edi, would be monitoring all activity onboard of course, but Miranda wasn't concerned about a synthetic intelligence or its opinion. The only person's opinion she was focused on as she hurried through the Normandy's corridors and lifts was Jack's. Despite all their 'playing', Jack had never truly seen her so… exposed yet. She wanted to make a good first impression.

Jack was waiting for her when she breached the doors of her office, leaned back in Miranda's own desk chair, her booted feet kicked up on the table, her hands lacing fingers behind her shaved head. When Miranda stepped before the desk, the soft _swoosh _of the doors sliding shut behind her and sealing her and Jack inside together, Jack's mouth gaped just a bit as her eyes lifted to sweep a long, intent, stare over every inch of Miranda's body. When their eyes met, Jack licked her lips and muttered, "…well, fuck me…"

"Do you… like it?"

"I like _you_." Jack swung her feet to the floor, stood, and angled around the desk to close the gap between them. Her hands fell atop Miranda's hips, her fingers softly rubbing the silk fabric against the sensitive skin beneath. "Shit, cheerleader… you are fucking _sexy_."

Miranda smiled. "I'm sexy? I thought you knew that already?"

"I knew it… I know it _better _now."

Miranda arched her back a little and Jack's eyes were drawn down to her chest almost at once. She couldn't keep her hands away for long. They slid up Miranda's belly, cupped the curves of her breast, and found her nipples between the thumb and forefinger of each of her hands. When Jack gave a little pinch, Miranda had to bite her lip to keep quiet.

"Did you just do that shit with your back to try and turn me on?" Jack asked, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You little manipulative bitch… you think you're in control here?"

Miranda bit more firmly on her lip, this time to keep a smile from her face.

"You do," Jack said with a shake of her head. "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we? Turn your ass around and bend over. _Now_."

Miranda did, eagerly.

_Crack._

Her office filled with the harsh sound of her punishment, Jack's hand swooping down hard to slap against her ass cheeks. With only the thin layer of the silk nightie to protect it, the sensitive skin there stung more sharply than it ever had. Miranda closed her eyes; it was incredible.

"Try something like that again, and I'll plug your tight little asshole up and _keep _it plugged up while I spank you numb. Would you like that?"

_Would I? _Miranda swallowed, running her fingers together before giving the answer she thought Jack wanted. "No."

"'No' what?"

She considered it. This was a new part of the game, and Miranda wasn't entirely sure what Jack wanted. "No, Jack."

_Crack._

Her entire body jolted forward as Jack's open palm found her ass again, and Miranda had to plant a foot out to keep herself steady. The wound stung atop the first, numbing a little patch of flesh between her legs; the most wonderful numb in the world.

"Try again."

"No… ma'am?"

"God, I'm about to put you over my fucking knee and beat that bubbly ass of yours raw, cheerleader. _Ma__'__am_? Seriously? What am I, fucking fifty? No, I don't want to be called 'ma'am'. …call me your master."

"You're my… master." The word 'master' felt good rolling off her tongue. It felt like a powerful word, a _dirty _word, and Miranda liked the way it sounded when applied to the tattooed woman standing behind her with the open palm. And if Jack was the master… that meant she was nothing more than a 'slave'; a tool to be used and discarded at Jack's leisure. The idea made Miranda's skin flush, and she felt her nipples stiffen a bit beneath their silk draping.

"You're god-damned right I am. Stand up. Turn around."

She did, and found Jack was staring at her with that hungry little twinkle in her dark, pretty eyes that Miranda loved to look upon. Jack's gaze lowered to her chest again. "Your nipples are looking a little stiff under that nightie, cheerleader. Is this shit exciting you?"

No point in trying to hide it then. "Yes.. Yes, _master,_" she was quick to correct herself.

"You're just a little whore, aren't you?"

"…yes."

Jack nodded. She seemed quite satisfied with that answer. "Unbuckle my chest harness."

Miranda's brow lifted.

"_Now._"

Jack wore only a series of straps around her upper body, putting both her slim frame as well as her many, many, pieces of artwork on display. Miranda's eyes glossed over it, not even sure where to begin to getthe thing off. She found two small rings up near the choker that hugged itself around Jack's slender neck, and brought her fingers up to begin working them out of their buckles. When it was done, the whole harness started falling apart piece by piece; first the chocker came loose, then the straps running tight around her breasts loosened and fell away, then the whole set-up was draped limply across Miranda's hands, and Jack was standing before her, bare-chested.

Jack's breasts were small, her nipples two pink little mounds ringed with ink. "You don't have to look so fucking disappointed, you know," Jack said, shuffling her feet around and suddenly looking as if she wished she'd never ordered her breasts to be bared.

"I'm not disappointed, Jack," Miranda told her honestly. "They're cute."

"Cute?" Jack crossed her arms beneath her breasts to give them some lift. "Fuck you. No one wants to hear their tits, especially if they're fucking _little _tits like mine, called 'cute'."

"They are, though."

Jack frowned. "Are you making fun of me? I just told you I don't want to hear that shit. I don't have tits. So what? Not everyone can be so perfectly put together as you with your big-"

Miranda leaned forward, reached for Jack's hips, and took the woman's nipple in her mouth. It was a bold move, acted on the instant it was thought up, and entirely unlike Miranda, but she'd done it anyway. The moment she _had_, her lips wrapped around Jack's nipple, her tongue tasting the sweetness of her pink flesh, Jack went quiet. Miranda sucked gently at it a bit, ran a hand up to slide her fingers over the curves that mounded below, then pulled away, dappled it with a little kiss, and moved to Jack's other breast. When her mouth closed around it and her tongue gave a flick, she heard a little moan of pleasure escape Jack's throat, and Miranda smiled, despite Jack's tit still firmly between her lips.

When she finished, Miranda stood erect once more and stared into Jack's eyes. They were lowered to an amorous half-mast, and Jack looked about as hungry as she ever had. Despite her lusty expression, though, she said, "I didn't tell you to do that."

"I know."

"There's going be consequences for your disobedience."

"…I know."

Jack looked her over, running her tongue against her bottom lip. "You're an unruly bitch when you're not on your leash. I have to fix that." She reached back for the little black bag she'd brought laying beside Miranda's desk, rummaged inside a moment, and returned with the collar and leash she'd purchased from the sex shop the previous day. Miranda kept her hands obediently at her sides as Jack stepped close to fasten the collar firmly around her neck. When Jack hooked the leash in place and gave a tug, Miranda was reminded at once of how satisfying it felt to be pulled around in such a manner. It made her feel truly… _owned. _She stumbled forth a few more steps as Jack backpedaled and kicked her 'toy' bag towards the bed, all the while tugging at Miranda's leash so that her bare feet slapped against the cold floor of her office. When they reached the big queen bed at the end of the room, Jack pulled hard enough on the leash so that Miranda lurched right into her waiting arms. Jack caught her, spun her, threw her to the bed. She landed atop the soft mattress on her side, the frilly hem of her nightie hoisting up over her thighs and hips as she did. Jack's eyes landed on her ass immediately, clad then only in the pink panties she'd been instructed to wear, and the tattooed woman's hunger only seemed more feral as she chewed at her lip. Miranda reached down to tug the nightie back in place, sheathing her exposed flesh from Jack's eager eyes and fixing her 'master' with a defiant little smirk.

"That's not yours to hide anymore, cheerleader," Jack told her. "_I _own that ass now. Remember?"

From the moment Miranda had taken Jack's nipple between her lips, she felt a certain boldness come across her, a playfulness, and she replied accordingly. "If this is your ass… then come claim it." _Who is that talking? _A voice questioned inside her, but Miranda ignored it; playing this role was too fun to stop, and fun was something she'd sorely been missing in her life. "…if you _can_, of course…"

Jack grinned. "Oooh… you _are_ one mouthy bitch, aren't you? You do remember I bought a ball gag, right? I can shut that pretty mouth of yours _for _you if you can't keep it shut yourself."

Miranda shrugged. "You'd have to get it on me first."

"Oh, you're going to regret that, cheerleader."

"Who's going to make me?"

Instead of answering, Jack pulled her combat boots off, lowered to her knees at the mattress' edge, and planted her hands on her hips. "One more word out of you, princess, and I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

"You'll have-" That was as far as Miranda got before Jack pounced. She came darting across the bed on her knees, and when Miranda lifted her hands to defend herself, Jack took hold of them, wrestled them away, and threw her weight down on top of her. They went tumbling to the mattress together, Jack on top, and when they landed, Jack worked her way down to straddle Miranda's hips. When Miranda made to try and squirm loose, Jack snatched her hands by the wrists and pinned them down hard over her head against the bed.

They stared at one another a moment; Miranda held flat on her back, her hands pinned down, her hair fanned out in a dark splash around her head; Jack leaning menacingly over her, grinning, her bare breasts hanging from her chest, her nipples like two little pink raindrops waiting to fall. The sounds of their breathing from the brief scuttle filled the quietness of the room. Miranda jerked her hips suddenly in attempt to free herself, but Jack shifted her grip on her wrists so that she could adjoin them with one hand and free her other. When it was done, she reached down for Miranda's chest and groped at one of her breasts.

"If you pinch me like you always do, I'll scream," Miranda told her.

Jack lifted a brow. "You _do _want your mouth gagged, don't you?"

She did, but she wouldn't dare admit that to Jack and ruin the fun of her roleplaying. "I'm warning you, Jack. You can't do this to me. You can't treat me this way. You-" Jack's pinched hard at her nipple. Miranda winced, but before she could fulfill the promise of her scream, Jack's hand was clamped down firmly over her mouth, silencing her.

"Don't make a sound," Jack warned, leaned back, and retrieved her 'toy' bag from beside the bed. She fished around inside, coming up a moment later with the long, leather, strap of the gag clenched between her fingers. Affixed in the strap's center, the big red ball swung balefully back and forth, the dim lighting of the dome beside the bed splashing a little strip of reflected light against its glossy surface.

_My silence, _Miranda thought as she eyed it, a stir of excitement quickening her heart.

"Open wide, cheerleader," Jack teased. "And take your last swallow. Once this is strapped in that pretty mouth of yours, you won't have another until I say so."

Miranda breathed, swallowed, and when Jack took her hand away, opened her mouth. Jack brought the ball to her lips and wedged it down tightly between her teeth, working it back and forth to force Miranda's jaw wider and wider. The sensation of having her mouth filled so… _entirely _was not an unpleasant one, but it _was_ a strange one. When Jack ran the straps back around her head and beneath her hair to fasten it in place, Miranda tested the solidity of the thing. She ground her teeth against it, squirmed her lips around it, pushed her tongue against its back side. The gag stayed put. When Jack tightened the buckles, Miranda groaned against her mouth's plug as it cemented itself in place.

"There we go," Jack said with a smirk. She patted Miranda's cheek. "Comfy, princess?"

Miranda glowered at the woman who'd silenced her, putting on her best 'angry captive' look.

That only seemed to rouse Jack's delight. "Oh? Nothing to say now?"

"Take this thing off me," Miranda tried to say, but the big ball wedged between her teeth robbed the flexibility from her jaw and the deftness from her lips, and the only sounds she managed were an unintelligible string of muffled protest. "_Amhf mrm hmf ahrm mmph._"

Jack rolled her eyes back as if in ecstasy, clasped her hands together, and laughed. "_Perfect_. There are few sounds in the galaxy as satisfying as a woman gagged. And… god damn, cheerleader, you look good."

Miranda lifted a brow; there was not much else she could do in reply then.

Jack leaned forward and kissed the bridge of her nose. Miranda closed her eyes, but the moment she did, Jack was getting her turned over on her belly beneath her. Miranda grunted as Jack's hand took firm hold of her shoulders and upper arms, wrenching them sideways so that Miranda was helpless but to turn herself over. When she was laid flat on her stomach, Jack wasted no time wrangled up her wrists and tugging them around to the small of her back. A second later, Miranda heard the crisp (and increasingly pleasurable to hear) _click_ of steel handcuffs as cold bracelets closed around her wrists. "_Mmmph,_" she sounded her 'protest' against her gag, tugging a bit at her cuffed hands to put on a little act of defiance.

"Be quiet," Jack commanded, and Miranda's office filled with the _crack _of her ass being spanked. Her teeth clamped hard on the ball between them as a pleasurable _'__oomph_' seeped from her throat, and she focused on the freshly-stung rectangle between her ass cheeks Jack had punished. "I said _quiet._" Jack's hand thundered across her rear again, sending a wave of pain and pleasure spiraling out from her left cheek. Miranda closed her lips tightly around the ball gag in attempt to keep herself quiet, but the quietest of grunts had sounded nonetheless. Jack's palm came across her ass again, three times then in quick succession, and by the end, Miranda felt her nipples stiffening and her panties starting to dampen as her arousal swelled between her legs.

Jack took hold of her arm and turned her back over (_she controls me so easily when I__'__m locked in handcuffs, _Miranda mused, enjoying the realization) before taking hold of her waist and working her back up against the headrest of the bed, where a trio of big satin-covered pillows mounded to provide a soft 'chair' to rest against. When she was nestled snuggly between them, Jack crawled up beside her and sat back on her thighs as she looked Miranda over with those dark, hungry, eyes of hers. "Disobedient little bitch."

"_Mhrmfh,_" Miranda protested with a shake of her head. At the corners of her stretched lips she felt a dampness, but when she made to swallow, Jack's warning held true: she could not. Her jaw was stretched to wide to allow such a… privilege.

"You're drooling, princess," Jack pointed out as Miranda felt a bit of saliva run to her chin.

"_Mhmf__…_"

Jack laughed. "Does that mean you want me to clean you? Are you that helpless?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes on her captor's. She worked her lips around the ball keeping her quiet.

"I like you like this," Jack admitted, leaning forth and using a tissue plucked from beside the bed to wipe the spit from Miranda's chin and the corners of her mouth. "Cuffed, quiet… drooling like some feral beast." The woman's eyes lowered to her chest. "And it looks like you're enjoying yourself quite a bit too, cheerleader."

Miranda followed the line of Jack's gaze. At her chest, her swollen nipples were poking at the thin silk covering them, like pink masts waiting to be freed. Jack obliged them. She licked at her lips and took hold of Miranda's nightie at the shoulder straps, working them down around Miranda's shoulders until only the little knot between her breasts was keeping the nightie in place. Jack's fingers found the ends of the knot and tugged at them a little, teasing, acting as if she were going to rip it away and loose Miranda's bare breasts, then hesitating and coiling the silk around her little finger. When Miranda sounded a brief grunt of protest, Jack held her eyes with a mischievous smirk tugging at her lip, making her wait, making her _obey_, then abruptly yanked the silk knot loose. Miranda's breast came spilling out of the fabric that had been hugging them, liberated from their silk prison, and the cool air of her office played against her nipples immediately, further stirring up her excitement.

"Fuck," Jack muttered, staring intently at her chest.

Miranda could only lay back and allow herself to be gawked at. She'd been captured, quieted, put on display, and there was nothing more she could do then but hope Jack enjoyed what she'd found. Judging by the eager way the tattooed woman kept running her tongue along her bottom lip, Miranda would say she was enjoying her 'find' quite a bit. _In this way, _I _control _her, Miranda thought. _I command her desire the way she commands me. _She liked that. She arched her back more to better display herself.

Jack looked as if she wanted to resist, perhaps wanting to tease Miranda a little and try to convince her she wasn't going to touch her… but when Miranda moaned against her gag and moved her leg to gently rub at Jack's side, Jack could hold back no longer. She came crawling up before her, planted her arms on either side of Miranda's chest, and lowered to take her nipple in her mouth. Miranda bit at her gag and laid her head back. Her nipple was swollen and sensitive then, and Jack's mouth was warm and moist and incredible. When the woman sucked, her lips came away only enough for her to plant a sweet little kiss atop Miranda's tit before taking her in her mouth again, more fully, her hands sliding up Miranda's bare belly to take handfuls of her chest. Jack's tongue lashed against the tip of her nipple, and Miranda's toes curled. When Jack moved to her other breast, working a path across her chest by dappling soft little kisses in a straight line, and took her in her mouth again, Miranda slid back against the bed and her legs moved as if of their own accord, running the soles of her feet up and down the soft sheets of the bedding beneath them as Jack groped and sucked and kissed and flicked, working her nipples as stiff as diamonds and awakening an eager tightness between Miranda's thighs. Jack's lips came away from her breast and moved to her collarbone, her neck, her chin, her cheek. Miranda moaned into her ball gag, wishing for the first time the cumbersome thing was loose so that she could kiss back. Jack kissed her way to Miranda's ear—her lips sending a shiver up her spine when they found the sensitive skin there—and the woman whispered, "_I want to make you come._"

Miranda bit her gag and moaned. If she could have, she would have told Jack, "Then do it. Do it and release this tension between my legs before it grows unbearable." Of course, the only sound she could muster was a muffled "_Hmfmmh_."

Jack kissed her mouth, ball gag and all, and grinned. "Beg me."

_If I only could__…_

"Beg," Jack repeated. "Beg me to fuck you, cheerleader. Beg me to enter you with my fingers or eat you with my mouth or penetrate you with one of our toys. Beg me to let you come…"

_Let me come! Please! _"_Mmmph,_" Miranda mumbled against her gag.

Jack's grin grew more devious. "If you don't _want_ to come…"

"_Hrmf! Mmf!_!"

"What's that?" Jack teased. Her hand moved to Miranda's breast and her fingers took her nipple firmly between them. Jack gave a little pinch and Miranda grunted. "Oh, that's right. You can't talk." Another pinch, harder. "That's too bad."

"_Mmmm__…_" Miranda closed her eyes as Jack went on pinched and teasing. She was enjoying this almost as much as she'd enjoyed her first spanking down below deck when she'd first come to Jack. _Come, _Miranda thought, _she__'__s not going to let me. _But then Jack's fingers left her nipple, slid down her side, found the waistband of her panties, played with it. Miranda's eyes came open and moved to Jack's, still laying beside her, still grinning that devilish grin.

"What?" Jack asked. Her fingers worked their way under the waistband and pulled it away before letting it _snap _back in place. "You want me to take those off for you?"

Miranda tried to swallow. The ball gag denied her. She could only stare at Jack, completely at the young woman's mercy.

Jack stared right back. "…I think you're the sexiest fucking person in this galaxy. Did you know that, cheerleader? You're in my fucking head. When I close my eyes at night, the last thing I think about these last few days is _you_." Jack moved a bit further down the bed. Her hand slid over Miranda's hipbone, thigh, and then found a resting place atop her crotch; just above where all that warm pressure was mounting. Jack's fingers pressed down firm and found Miranda's clit. Miranda could not stop a long moan from seeping around her ball gag as Jack's fingers moved up and down twice before lifting. Jack smirked and gave her crotch a little pat. "Damp down there. You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you, princess?"

When Jack's fingers rubbed a long line down her panties, Miranda's breath came heavy against her chest, and her legs spread themselves involuntarily, eager to allow access to Jack's wandering fingers.

From the slits of her eyes, Miranda saw Jack watching her writhe and moan and twist about, a satisfied little grin on her face: likely at just how much _control_ she had over Miranda's body. "I would be good to you, you know…" Jack said quietly. "If you were mine. Like, _really_ mine." Her hand came away, hesitated, then slipped under the top of Miranda's panties. Jack's fingers were in the thin strip of finely-groomed pubic hair Miranda maintained there only briefly before sliding their way down around her clit. They rested on either side, but did not touch. "Remember when I said I wanted to kidnap you? Well… what if I _did?_"

Miranda was having a hard time focusing on Jack's voice. It seemed a mile away, down the end of some dark narrow corridor. _Every_thing in the room, in fact, was gradually receding, and the only things left were the warmth between her legs and Jack's fingers, teasing the sensitive skin around her clit.

Jack went on. "If I kidnapped you and took you away… away from Shepard, away from the Normandy, from Cerberus, from your 'duties'… you'd really be mine then, Miranda. _All _mine."

_Miranda, _Miranda thought, able to pool her focus long enough to hear her name. _She called me Miranda. Not cheerleader. Not princess. Not bitch. Just__… __Miranda._

Jack's fingers slid down around her pussy and rubbed. "And it's not like you'd have to worry about anything. It wouldn't be on you. I would just do it. I'd sneak up here one night, throw some ropes and a gag on you, and… I'd just take you. That'd be it." One of Jack's fingers slipped inside her, then another. Miranda squeezed her eyes shut and spread her legs further and felt her toes curl and her blood heat and her heart hammer at her ribcage. Jack slid herself deep, stopped, slid back out again. "I'd blindfold you so you wouldn't know where I took you. Then I'd keep you away from the rest of the galaxy. I'd keep you locked up, chained, roped, strapped, whatever. I'd massage your back and rub your feet in the day, and by night I'd suck your tits and eat your pussy… and I would never let you go." Jack's fingers slid deeper still, hooked, applied pressure inside her. Miranda bit her gag so hard, her teeth hurt. There was no stopping her moaning then. If it wasn't _for _the gag in her mouth, she might've brought the whole Normandy down on them. Jack's fingers were… relentless, firm, supple, _wonderful. _Jack was saying more words then too, but what they were, Miranda didn't know anymore. She only felt her sweat slick beneath her back, her hair tangled around her face, her cheeks hot, her nipples so hard they could resist even Jack's pinching, and her pussy; the wonderful, warm, thing between her legs that had been confined and quiet for so many years… it was alive and screaming then, and when Jack's fingers curled again inside her and pressed, Miranda's world turned upside down. Her orgasm spread from between her legs like the galaxy's most wonderful flower blossoming through her body. Her back arched and her toes curled and when she bit down on her ball gag, the resistance there was the most pleasurable resistance in the world. She screamed, but the sound was lost behind the gag and beneath Jack's hand as the woman came up to further silence her.

It was some time before Miranda could bring herself to open her eyes again, either a second or an eternity: she could not say. When she did, though, Jack was sprawled on the bed beside her, the woman's face laying casually against her palm, propped up by her elbow. Jack grinned and reached over to trace a faint circle with her index finger around Miranda's nipple. "I actually didn't want to top you off there, but… fuck, once you started in with the moaning and the writhing and shit… I couldn't help myself. I wanted to watch you come."

Miranda lay panting. She grunted into the gag and looked down her nose at it.

"Yeah, I guess I should take that thing off your mouth now." Jack raised a brow. "_Or_… I could keep it there. I like you all mumbly and drooling."

What more could Miranda do? She lay there in her cuffs and gag, waiting.

Jack watched her a while longer, her eyes returning a few times to Miranda's chest at it heaved with every breath she pulled. When, apparently, Jack had enough of toying with her, she reached around the back of her head, popped the buckled of the gag, and carefully removed the thing from between Miranda's teeth. "Move your jaw slow," Jack told her, laying a hand on her cheek and rubbing a little circle there. "These things tend to leave it a little stiff."

Miranda did, and Jack was right. It took almost half-a-minute of Jack rubbing and Miranda flexing her jaw before she felt she could speak again. "Thank you," she said; it had been the first thing that popped into her head worth voicing.

"Thank you?"

"For letting me come," Miranda explained. "I needed that Jack… and you were wonderful."

"Yeah, well, let's just hope that wasn't _all _you needed."

Miranda frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jack absentmindedly rubbed at her nipple. "It means now I guess we find out if you were just looking to get fucked… or if you actually give a shit about me."

"_Good_ then. Maybe now I can finally prove myself to you that I'm not just using you."

"Yeah…" Jack held her eyes. "I need a shower. Just _watching _that little show you put on got me all sweaty." She glanced Miranda over. "And it looks like you need one yourself. I'd say lets hop in together, but… I don't want to spoil you so soon."

Miranda fixed her with a wry smile. "Oh, no?"

Jack grinned. "Turn over, cheerleader. I guess I have to take you out of those cuffs now."

"So you're actually going to release me?" Miranda asked, turning to her side so Jack could get at her bound hands. "I'm surprised. For a second there, Jack, I actually thought you were serious about the whole 'kidnapping me' thing."

"Oh, I was serious." Jack moved her hands down to the small of Miranda's back and a moment later the handcuffs slid apart. As Miranda pulled them to her chest and rubbed at her wrists, Jack said, "I'm actually _really _serious about that, to tell you the truth. I've been thinking…"

Miranda laughed. "Jack… come on. You're messing with me… right?"

Jack stared at her a moment before answering, "…right." She stood, retrieved her chest harness, and buckled it back in place over her breasts. As she was pulling her boots back over her feet, she said, "I hear Shepard will be back either tonight or early tomorrow."

"Yes. That's what it sounds like."

Jack shrugged. "I guess we can get back to doing what's important now, right? Getting shot at? Risking our lives? Busting ass? You know: the fun stuff."

Miranda nodded along. She wasn't sure what else to say to that.

"Yeah, well… I'll see you around, cheerleader."

"Jack," Miranda called after her, hurrying to catch her at the doors of her office before they split apart. "This doesn't change anything, you know," she explained, taking Jack's hand in her own and rubbing at it. "Just because this little 'vacation' is over doesn't mean things have to be any different between us."

"Except it _is _different now," Jack said, slipping her hand out from between Miranda's. "Before, going out and risking our lives was no big deal to me. I didn't give a shit about getting shot down, and I really didn't even that much of a shit about the rest of you going down either. But now…" She lowered her eyes and sighed. "…now there's going to be someone I _do _give a shit about out there with bullets flying by her head and ugly fucking krogans rushing her and… shit, I don't know. I need a shower. I need to think. I'll see you."

"Jack," Miranda called after her, but Jack did not turn around as she marched off and was lost around the bend of the corridor, leaving Miranda alone to stand and watch from the doorway of her office, wandering what her volatile girlfriend might do next…

…and hoping it wasn't something either of them would regret.


	6. Chapter 6

She could hear Jack's shouting before she even left the lift.

The Normandy's elevator slowed to a halt at the C.I.C. deck and the big door peeled away, but Miranda Lawson was squeezing her way out into the hall long before it finished. She rushed after the sound of Jack's voice through the bridge, around the bulkhead that spilled into the ship's armory, and into the adjacent hall. It was there she found Jack, seething, handcuffed, and being wrangled arm-in-arm by the Normandy's Armory Officer, and Miranda's own former partner and lieutenant, Jacob Taylor.

"_Get the fuck off me!_" Jack demanded, snapping her hips and trying to yank herself out of Jacob's hold. "_Fucker!_"

Jacob did not relent. He shifted his position to get behind Jack and slip his arms through her own again, keeping her cuffed hands held firmly behind her and her writhing, for the most part, tamed. "Stop fighting me."

Jack barred her teeth and roared before trying to shake loose of her captor again, but when she snapped her head aside, her eyes found Miranda and some of the anger fled her face at once; a look of desperation replacing it. "Miranda, get these fucking things off me," she said, trying to turn and reveal her cuffed wrists. "Get them the fuck _off_ me."

"Let her go, Jacob," Miranda said, marching down the hall to break the two up.

"Miranda…" Jacob began, lifting a hand placatingly.

Miranda ignored it, ignored him, ignored the fact that Jacob technically held a position above Jack's own and likely had all the ship's rights he needed to do what he was doing, and forced herself between the two of them.

"Take the handcuffs off me, Miranda. Please," Jack pleaded. Her cheeks were red, her voice was unusually brittle, and her breaths seemed to be coming shallow and queer in her chest.

Miranda did not hesitate in the slightest. The cuffs were standard issue Cerberus steel, and both Jacob and herself had a plastic slide on their belts that locked and unlocked them. Miranda freed Jack's wrists immediately.

"She put her hands on Commander Shepard," Jacob's voice came over her shoulder, curt and austere as always. "Those were _his _orders you just interfered with, Miranda."

"_Fuck you!_" Jack wailed, spinning on the Armory Officer with her fists balled and wrapped in the blue glow of her biotics.

"Jack," Miranda called to her girlfriend calmly and stepped between them. Jack's eyes flicked to hers and, again, some of the anger waned from her fiery eyes. When Miranda reached for her hand and lowered it, Jack did not resist. "Are you alright?"

"She _attacked _Commander Shepard," Jacob insisted.

"Fuck this," Jack muttered, spun on her heel, and stomped out of the hall, ignoring Miranda when she called to her.

Miranda made to follow until Jacob's hand took her by the arm and turned her back to him. "_Hey_. Did you not hear me, Miranda? Commander Shepard _ordered _Jack be restrained and detained. What exactly am I supposed to tell him now?"

Miranda closed her eyes and pinched at her brow. The headaches that had finally began to subside the last few weeks were there again, trying to creep up and shoot pain into her temples. "I don't know, Jacob… tell him I stopped you. I don't care. What did she even _do _anyway?"

"She shoved the Commander. I heard the two of them shouting at each other in the briefing room, and when I came in to investigate, your… _'__girlfriend__' _or whatever she is to you had her nose pressed right up to Shepard's. When he made to move her back, she shoved him against the wall. I came in and wrestled her down to put the cuffs on her. Then Shepard ordered me to detain her. And I was… until _you _interfered with it and made me break a direct command."

Miranda frowned. "What were they arguing about?"

"I don't know. What does it matter? You can't put your hands on the Commander of a ship. That's punishable by-"

"Enough, Jacob," she interjected. "I'll talk to Jack."

"You'll _talk _to her?" Jacob's eyes narrowed and he shook his head with what Miranda felt was either disapproval or disappointment or both. "What's going on with you, Miranda? Ever since Illium, you've… you've _changed._ Do you remember that strong, fierce, woman with the unrelenting work ethic and the commanding presence you were? I do. I used to work alongside her, but these last few weeks… she's been gone. And the only thing left is… well, _you_." He gestured to her with another shake of his head.

"And what exactly is _that _supposed to mean, Jacob?"

"It means I don't think whatever you and Jack have been doing together is good for you." He took a step closer, his hand closing on her arm again but more softly than before. "Listen, Miranda-"

"I'm done listening to this, Jacob." She jerked her arm out of his grip and made to head after Jack.

"I have to report this to Commander Shepard, you know."

"Report away."

"Would you listen to yourself!?" Jacob shouted after her. "You're starting to even _sound_ like Jack. And you know what, Miranda? I hope the Commander has her thrown off the ship. Maybe she'll go back in a prison cell… where someone like her _belongs_."

Miranda's reply was so very Jack-like, she knew it would only confirm Jacob's accusation that she was sounding more like her tattooed girlfriend, but Miranda said it anyway, and when she did, it felt good enough coming off her lips to make her forget the pain in her temples entirely_. _"Fuck you, Jacob."

She found Jack where she knew she'd find Jack, down in the deepest bowels of the ship, in her little hiding hole beneath the engine room. When Miranda came upon her, Jack was pacing before her cot, her fists clenching and unclenching, her boots stomping hard against the metal beneath them, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip so firmly, a little blood had dried there.

"Jack?" Miranda called softly as she rounded the corner into the dim overhang of pipes and the faint ruddy glow of the engines beyond.

Jack spun on her, fists balled, but when their eyes met, Jack's shoulder slumped as if some heavy coat had been lifted from her, and when Miranda moved in to wrap her up in her arms, Jack allowed herself to be wrapped. Miranda kissed her head. "Are you alright?"

"No…" Jack muttered, and after a moment's hesitation, her own arms came around Miranda's waist and squeezed. "No, I'm not. I'm fucking pissed and I'm shaking and shit."

Miranda squeezed her a little tighter. "It's okay. I'm here. You're okay."

"That fucker handcuffed me," Jack's voice came a bit muffled as she pressed her face against Miranda shoulder. "And don't think I don't see the irony of this shit either. We play our games in the bedroom and, shit, I guess I should be used to handcuffs, but… you don't fucking understand, Miranda. I don't like being put in restraints, _especially _not by some Cerberus cocksucker." She was quiet a moment, and in that silence Miranda _did _feel Jack trembling. "Those fucks at the Pragia facility used to strap me down to my bed and… and the needles… shit."

"_Shhh_," Miranda hushed her. "It's alright, Jack. I'm here, and I'm not letting anyone hurt you again. Alright? I promise you." She kissed Jack's head again and took the woman as tightly as she could against herself. The two of them stayed like that for awhile, neither of them speaking, both of them contented in the simple comfort of one another's embrace. Eventually, they moved down to Jack's little cot, but were quick to entangle themselves in one another's arms again. Jack kissed her lips before sliding down to lay flat on her back and rest her head against Miranda's lap. Miranda ran her fingers through the little stubble that was Jack's hair.

"…thanks, Miranda," Jack croaked, closing her eyes and letting out a deep breath. "I just get so fucking angry sometimes…"

"That you do." She moved one of her fingers down to Jack's ear and gave a little tickle.

"Knock it off," Jack complained, but the smile on her face betrayed her words, and when Miranda tickled at her neck, a little laugh slipped her lips. "Stop!" Miranda laugher herself as she wiggled another tickle into the side of Jack's neck. "God, you're by far the more sadistic of the two of us," she said, squirming aside to try and protect her vulnerable neck from another tickle. "I'm glad _I__'__m _the dom and _you__'__re _the sub in our relationship. I wouldn't even want to know what you'd do to me if you had me all tied down."

Miranda laughed again at that. "I'd tickle you till you had tears in your eyes for starters."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Jack asked, a playful grin rising on her lips. "Cruel bitch."

"The cruelest." She leaned down to kiss Jack's forehead, but as soon as she did, snuck another tickle against her neck. Jack squirmed aside, rolled to her knees, and took Miranda's arms by the wrists. She wrestled them down and crawled atop her, pinning Miranda by the waist against the bedding beneath them. Jack held her eyes, laughed, and leaned down to kiss at her lips.

"You know," Miranda managed to sneak between Jack's kissing,"we're docking," another kiss, "at the Citadel tonight," another, "and that means," a long kiss, perhaps intended to shut her up, but when it lifted, Miranda went on anyway, "that you and I will have free time again, Jack."

That seemed to—temporarily, at least—halt Jack's relentless lips. "Yeah… free time. If our wonderful 'Commander' doesn't have me thrown in a cell for giving him a little shove."

"I'll talk to Shepard. He won't do anything to you. I'll make sure of that." Maybe out of gratitude, Jack kissed her again, long and passionately. When their lips came apart, Miranda asked, "What were you arguing about anyway?"

Jack's lips twisted and her gaze dropped. After a moment, she confessed, "Well… _you_, actually."

"Me?"

"It's… not fair." She crawled from Miranda's waist and sat on the mattress to lay her head against the wall. "I wanted to know why he keeps taking _you _out on every stupid-ass mission he goes on. I mean, why does he need _you _specifically? I told him that. I told him he has a turian and a salarian and a fucking krogan. I told him to take one of _them _out… them or the fucking fish-man or the blue bitch or something."

'Fish-man', Miranda assumed, meant Thane. 'Blue bitch' had to be Samara. "Jack…"

"No, don't give me some 'there's no danger' shit, Miranda. That's bullshit and you know it. I heard Chakwas the other day in the mess hall. I _know _you got clipped in the leg. I figured you didn't tell me 'cause you knew it would've pissed me off, and you were right, but I watched you. You walked a little funny for the next couple of days after it happened, and from time to time I see you rubbing at it."

In truth, Miranda wanted to rub at it _then_. The shot had just grazed the side of her thigh on a mission to the krogan home planet of Tuchanka. It had left her with an oblong strip of scorched skin there, but Doctor Chakwas had got to it in time to heal before any permanent damage was done. And she _had _kept it secret from Jack to keep her from worrying, but she supposed that charade was over now. "I didn't _lie__…_"

"No, just didn't bother telling the truth is all," Jack retorted. "That time it was just a flesh wound… but what about next time? Or the time after that? What about when a shot lands that you _don__'__t _recover from? What happens when you don't come _back_… don't come back to _me_."

"Jack…"

But Jack had already pushed off the wall, crawled the gap between them, and taken Miranda in her arms. When the young woman's hands moved into her hair and stroked, Miranda closed her eyes and laid her head against her girlfriend's chest. It was… nice to have someone care about her so much. _It__'__s been too long since someone _has, Miranda mused as Jack's fingers gentled caressed her.

"Do you think Shepard needs you?" Jack asked. "Like, _really _needs you. Be honest with me, Miranda. With all the fucking help he's recruited for himself… how important are you to him these days? Seriously."

Miranda considered it, but no easy answer presented itself. "I… don't know, Jack. Honestly. It's complicated."

"Just think about it. The Cerberus cocksucker," _Jacob, _Miranda supposed that meant, "knows all your duties and shit. He could fill out your job fairly easily, right? And I mean, combat-wise… fuck, neither one of us could compete with the krogan or fish-face. I'm one fucking powerful biotic, sure, but the asari bitch Shepard has now is just as powerful… plus she's got all the 'justice' and 'discipline' bullshit that I don't. The quarian far surpasses your tech ability. I mean… fuck, what the hell are we still _doing _here, Miranda?"

Miranda reached out to take Jack's hand and stroke at it. "What am I supposed to say to all that, Jack?"

"Say it's true." Jack shuffled herself a little closer on the bed. "Admit that I'm right, Miranda. Admit that if you and I were to just… _disappear_… that this ship wouldn't be any worse for it."

"I don't know."

"Think about it then."

Miranda sighed, but did, and after a long moment's debate, said, "I… suppose you might be right. But, Jack, it doesn't _change_ anything. I can't just run away from all this. I would be branded a traitor. And the Illusive Man… he'd have people after me, looking for me, _hunting _me."

Jack was nodding along. "Unless, of course, you went somewhere that illusive fuck and his pawns couldn't find you…"

Miranda sighed. "Do we really have to talk about this right now?"

Jack held her eyes a half-dozen heartbeats before a grin took her face. "…no. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I have a better task for those lips of yours."

Miranda smiled. "Oh?"

Then they kissed, and did not part for quite some time.

* * *

It was later that night, long after Miranda had laid her head against her pillow and closed her eyes to drift off to the comforting hold of a deep sleep, that she was awoken with a kiss. Her eyes fluttered to half-mast and she tried to rise, half-uncertain of what was even happening, before a hand fell atop her back and kept her pinned down with her belly against the mattress. Lips, warm and tender, grazed her cheek again and Miranda allowed a quiet little laugh to slip from her mouth. "Jack?"

From the inky-blackness of the room, Jack shushed her, "_Shhh_."

"What are you doing?" Before they'd parted, Jack had instructed her to get a good night's sleep for the next day, considering they'd be docked at the Citadel and Commander Shepard had business to attend to. It meant they'd have a whole day to themselves, and Miranda had fallen asleep thinking about it, excited that they'd finally have a chance to maybe 'play' again. Apparently, Jack had moved up their 'play date' without telling her. "Jack?"

Jack's hands closed around her wrists and gently tugged at them till Miranda surrendered them and angled her arms around her sides, where Jack pinned them down against the small of her back and, a moment later, Miranda felt soft cotton rope wrapping them up tight. _She__'__s surprising me, _Miranda realized, feeling the arousal stirring within her almost immediately. Jack moving so quietly and efficiently in the darkness was incredibly exciting, and when the cinch closed down the middle of Miranda's freshly-bound wrists, she couldn't keep a smile from her face as she said, "So this is why you told me to get a 'good night's sleep'?"

Instead of answering, Jack threw the covers from the bed, putting Miranda's body—clad then only by her black bra and matching panties—on display. Jack's weight came down on her legs, and shortly after Miranda's feet were being pressed together so that her ankles could be bound by the same soft rope Jack had trussed her hands in. When that was finished, Jack worked quickly to secure the rest of her legs, running ropes in tight coils around both the tops and bottoms of her knees. Miranda had never been bound like that, and the sensation of not being able to pull her legs apart even in the slightest was… interesting, to say the least. _But how will she slip her fingers inside me and work me into orgasm again like this? _Miranda pondered with a grin. Her heart came quicker against her chest. Jack's rope work wasn't finished just yet, though. More rope came looping around her waist, then even _more _around her chest, above and below her breasts and two lengths even came crisscrossing down _between _them. When Jack pulled everything tight, Miranda's arms were pulled firmly against her back, and she'd lost almost all mobility, save her fingers, toes, and head. It was incredible, and Miranda felt herself starting to swell beneath both her bra and panties, despite Jack having not laid one finger on her yet. _Or _in _me._

Jack rolled her onto her back, and when Miranda saw the woman's dark figure hovering over her in the night, she wanted to cry out, "Kiss me. Use me. Fuck me.", but instead, bit her lip and waited obediently for her master to do what she would.

"I'm going to gag you," Jack whispered, "but just know it's not because I don't trust you, Miranda. I just want you quiet for awhile." She leaned in and kissed her on the lips. "Okay?"

_Okay? _Miranda thought. _She__'__s never asked for my permission before. _"Okay, Jack. Gag me. Just make sure you punish me, too."

"I can't. Not for a little while."

Miranda frowned. "What? What are you talking about."

Jack kissed her again. When she pulled back, even in the dark Miranda could feel the woman's eyes boring into her own. "I'm kidnapping you, Miranda."

"Kidna- _what!?_"

"You said it yourself. We're not needed here. And I'm sick of you putting your life on the line every damn day. I'm sick of waiting in the fucking bowels of the ship after Shepard takes you out on some mission, wondering if I'm ever going to see you again. Fuck all that. I'm kidnapping you."

Miranda made to sit up, but Jack's ropes worked together in unison across her entire body to remind her that was no longer possible. "Jack, wait. We have to talk this over. We- _Arrmmmmph!_" A thick cloth was wedged down between her lips and teeth, shutting her up immediately. "_Mmf! Mmmph!_"

"I'm sorry about the gag, but I have to keep you quiet. For both our sake." Jack kissed her on the bridge of the nose as she brought the ends of the gag around the back of Miranda's head to knot tightly, securing the muzzle in place.

Miranda grunted and shook her head, but any further word she said then was nothing but mumbled nonsense that even _she _couldn't understand. _I can__'__t say a word, _she realized, her heart quickening for an entirely different reason then before. _Jack is kidnapping me and I can__'__t say a thing about it. _Miranda lifted her eyes to glower at her captor, chewing on her gag like a horse at the bit.

"I care too much about you to let you talk me out of this," Jack told her. "Don't stay mad, alright?" She reached for something in the dark. "I'm going to blindfold you now. Try to enjoy it."

"_Mmmmph!_" Miranda protested, but her gagged demands were promptly ignored as Jack brought a cloth across her eyes and knotted it behind her head, then _every_thing was dark, and Miranda was left to grunt and groan and writhe and twist against her captors's restraints, completely blinded, utterly useless, and at Jack's mercy entirely.

"I'm going to wrap you up a little in a sheet. Don't worry. You won't be bundled up long. Just till I get you somewhere more secure." Again Miranda tried making her dissatisfaction known, again the gag made her sound like a mumbling fool, and again Jack ignored her anyway. The thin sheet she kept under her main covers was thrown across her half-naked body—_I__'__m wearing more rope than clothes, _Miranda had time to think with a certain feeling of absurdity—and tucked down around her on the other side. Then she was flipped to her side, hoisted, and the sheet came wrapping up around her. Jack did this twice more, and by the time she finished, Miranda was cocooned in her own bedsheet. She squirmed a bit to test it, but the ropes and the sheet combined were far too constricting to allow her any more than a subtle shift of the hips or a twist of the shoulders. Both above and below her 'wrap' she could feel the cooler air of the Normandy gusting against her hair and the soles of her feet.

Jack's hands rolled her cocooned body to its side, and the next thing Miranda knew, she was being hoisted up and slung over Jack's shoulder like a sack. She writhed and wiggled, but when Jack's hand came down atop her butt, demanding obedience, that put an end to her struggling at once as Miranda realized, _Oh, God__… __I__'__m turned on. How in the world could I be turned on?_ But she was, and when Jack started carrying her through the Normandy, and the safety of her little office was, undoubtedly, sinking away behind them, her arousal only grew. _I__'__m hers, _Miranda thought, swallowing a lump in her throat as she felt what must have been the Normandy's main lift start up beneath Jack's shoulder. _I__'__m Jack__'__s now. Her property__… __her slave. She__'__s bound me, gagged me, wrapped me up__… __kidnapped me, truly and wholly kidnapped me. _Miranda kept expecting someone to stop them, some voice to call out a demand for Jack to halt and give up the kidnapped woman bundled up and tossed over her shoulder… but no one ever did. Not through the whole trek through the Normandy, not when Miranda heard the Normandy's shuttle doors grinding open and felt the crisp air of the Citadel's docking bay come gusting up through her cocoon, not when she was hauled off, turned, twisted, moved and shifted, and—finally—lowered again. No one had said a thing.

"You're alright, cheerleader," Jack's voice came quietly into her wrap. "Just a little further and I'll take you out of that sheet. If you behave, you might get the blindfold and gag off too."

_Leave them, _Miranda might've said if she could. _Leave them, Jack, and keep me. Keep me, because I__'__m yours now. You__'__ve stolen me, and I__'__m yours. _

She knew should've been angry or afraid or confused or worried… but she wasn't any of those things, she was only excited…

…excited at the prospect of what might happen to her next.


	7. Chapter 7

Miranda Lawson had never felt so utterly helpless, nor so incredibly aroused. There were ropes cinched tight around her hands and feet and knees and elbows, and more wrapping her torso and arms, binding her, constricting her every movement, demanding her obedience. There was a cloth over her eyes, and in its sprawl of ebon darkness she could not glimpse even the slightest slimmer of light. She was blind, submerged in a black sea, but of course there was nothing she could say about her predicament either, for tightly wrapping her mouth was another cloth, leaving her to suffer her bondage in forced silence. When she tried clenching her teeth, the thick knotted fabric was there between them, keeping her quiet, and even that simple denial of being able to close her mouth was so strangely exciting, Miranda moaned against her muzzle. And all around her, hugging warmly at her like the tender arms of a lover, her own bed sheet wrapped her up in its tight cocoon. She was hot inside, her arms and legs slicked with sweat, but she was contented in her restraint too. She welcomed the seductive sensation of her restriction, and each time she even _considered _writhing against it, a warm tingle spread from the dampness between her legs and Miranda was momentarily lost in the brief, beautiful, ecstasy of total submission.

And then there was Jack: her voice, her hands, the sweet sound of her breathing, the warmth of it pressing through the thin sheet to tickle at Miranda's ear. When she grabbed for Miranda's legs or arms or body, and her fingers, slender and firm, closed down around her, Miranda could do nothing but focus on them. When Jack slung her over her shoulder, she bounced helplessly atop it, quietly grunting against her gag as she was carried off like some damsel in distress. When Jack pressed her lips close to Miranda's head and whispered, "_You__'__re mine now, cheerleader_", Miranda squeezed her eyes shut beneath her blindfold and wished Jack was atop her, kissing her, using her, fucking her every which way she wanted. And when Jack finally lowered her again, Miranda's heart thundered so fiercely against her chest, she thought it might hammer right through her ribcage. _She__'__s got me_, she thought, the dizzying disorientation of not knowing where she was making her head spin in the darkness. _She__'__s really got me. I__'__ve been captured, kidnapped, tamed._

At some point, Jack halted them, lowered her, and asked, "Are you alright in there?"

Miranda closed her lips around the knot of her gag and hummed. _What more can I do? _She thought, the pounding of her heart filling her ears with its intermittent drumming. _I__'__m not permitted to speak or move. This is all I can reply with. _She hummed again, straining against her cocoon to nod her head a bit.

Jack kissed her. She couldn't feel her captor's lips, but she heard the sweet sound of them as Jack took the back of her head and pressed against her face. "Just a little further," she whispered, "and I'll remove the sheet."

"_Mmmph_," came Miranda's muffled response. She was enjoying the sound of her own gagged nonsense more and more; it reminded her of how truly controlled she was, of how humiliatingly useless Jack had rendered her.

Jack scooped her into her arms. Miranda loved that too: the briefly held position of being cradled in Jack's arms like a bride being carried off by her groom. Then Jack was placing her on something, and wherever they were filled with a sharp _hisss _as the soft rocking of movement swayed the ground. As they were moved along in whatever transport Jack had found them, Miranda lay as still as stone in hopes of impressing her captor with her obedience. She didn't struggle or writhe or make a sound, only kept her head pressed against whatever she'd been laid upon and waited patiently for what Jack decided to do with her next. At a point, Jack's hand fell atop her thigh and started rubbing up and down with the subtle motion of the transport. When her fingers grazed the top of her thigh, they pressed into the sheet and squeezed, tickling at the sensitive skin down near Miranda's crotch. Miranda moaned, and that earned her a harder squeeze. When she squirmed a bit, Jack's hand slid up to her chest and pinched at her nipple.

When Jack had first started doing that, Miranda had enjoyed it in a way, but it hurt too, and left her feeling slightly uncomfortable. By now, though, she had gotten used to it, and even the anticipatory sensation of Jack cupping her breast and sliding those tattooed fingers of hers up to flank the sensitive pink skin of her tit made Miranda's legs rub together at the knees to control her excitement. She had come to love those little pinches, she supposed. They were reminders of who was who in their relationship, and now she found herself relishing them each time they came.

Jack's voice slipped softly into her ear from beyond the cocoon of sheets: "Do you have to be punished again or are you going to lay still and let me have my way with you now?"

"_Mmm__…_"

"What was that?"

"_Mmm.__"_

"Are you giving me lip, cheerleader?"

Miranda chewed her gag and shook her head.

Jack was quiet a moment, and in that silence Miranda could practically _feel _her girlfriend's mischievous grin and lusty eyes trickling over her, looking for a place to squeeze or pinch or punish. "Don't squirm an inch or make a single sound for the rest of this trip or I'll flip you over, cut a hole in these sheets around that curvy butt of yours, and use one of our big, rubber toys to fuck you in the ass. Is that what you want?"

_Oh, God, _Miranda thought, sweat rising in her palms almost immediately. She was taken with such a strong urge to begin twisting and turning to earn her… '_punishment__'_, she had to chew the gag again to get herself under control. She'd never had something in her asshole, and wasn't even sure she'd enjoy such a thing, but Jack threatening her with it… _She knows every perfect thing to say to drive me crazy. A few choice words from her lips and I__'__m soaking in my panties. _She obeyed; she lay still again, quiet.

Jack groped at her thighs, poking a finger down against the sheet to fondle at Miranda's crotch. It took every bit of willpower she had not to move or make noise, but Miranda managed - barely. When Jack's probing finger pressed deep enough to slide against her clit, though, Miranda had to ball her hands so tight to keep quiet, her nails dug painfully into her palm.

"Good," Jack's voice came breaching down into the dark pool that was her blindness. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

_I__'__m _your_ girl, _Miranda might have said if she could.

"When you're good, you deserve a reward." Jack's hands were moving over her cocoon again, sliding up, up, and laying softly atop her breasts. "When I have you stashed away somewhere safe, I'm going to eat your pussy, princess. Would you like that? My mouth closed around your sensitive little clit? My tongue inside you?"

_Yes, God, yes, Jack, _Miranda thought. She sunk her teeth deep into her gag to keep quiet though. This might be a game, and if she responded, if would be exactly what Jack wanted; a show of disobedience.

"You do, don't you?" Jack went on, her hands squeezing ever so softly at Miranda's chest. "You want to fill my mouth up with your come when I force an orgasm on you. You want me down between your legs. You want me on my knees, pleasuring you."

Miranda swallowed. _Be still, be quiet, and she might actually go through with it when we get__… __wherever we__'__re going._

Jack gave her thigh a squeeze. "You're all mine. No one knows I have you. No one knows where you are. And I can do whatever the fuck I want with you and your body. How does that make you feel, Miranda Lawson? To be my fucking property. Huh? Answer me."

_Don__'__t. _Miranda kept still. _She__'__s trying to provoke you._

"You think lying there all silent is going to help you?" Jack teased. "You think you can hold out? What if I turn you over and spank your ass till its numb. You really think you can keep that pretty mouth of yours wrapped quietly around the gag I fixed it with the whole time? Do you want to find out?"

Miranda was at her breaking point, cresting the hill of her tolerance to remain quiet and teetering on the precipice of thrashing and screaming against her gag, if nothing more than just to earn the punishment Jack kept teasing her with. But her savior came with the audible _hisss _of whatever transport they were in grinding to a halt and the motion around them waning away to a placid stillness. In its silence, Miranda could hear her own breath scraping at the sheets above her face. She was hotter than ever… and in more ways than one.

"Stay quiet. I'll be right back."

"_Mmf!_" Miranda grunted with a shake of her head. _True_ fear came then, a cold spear piercing up through her belly and chest at the idea of being left alone in her bondage.

"_Shhh_, it's alright, cheerleader," Jack told her with a laugh. "I'm only poking my head outside to make sure the way is clear. I'm not leaving you. I wouldn't do that." Her lips pressed to the sheet again and kissed. "Okay?"

Miranda pulled a breath and nodded. _Of course she wouldn__'__t leave me. _She felt silly for assuming that was what was happening in the first place.

The heavy fall of Jack's boots thumped across metal, trailed away, paused, returned. Miranda lay still, working to get her breathing and heart rate under control. She was turned, sat up, and hoisted over Jack's shoulder, then the little space they occupied filled with the sound of her captor's boots drumming forth again. They took a turn, another, and at a third the air grew cool and crisp around Miranda's cocoon. _Outside, _she realized. _We__'__re going outside. _And they did, but only briefly. Jack moved quickly, bouncing Miranda off her shoulder as she carried her bound-up prisoner forward and into the calm, cool night. It had to be night, Miranda supposed, because wherever they were was far too quiet to be anything else. She could hear a faint wind gusting against the ground, but it came too steady to be natural. That meant they were somewhere in the Citadel, amidst a _simulated _night, where generators perpetuated false winds to match a more natural climate. She knew they hadn't left the Citadel (the journey too brief, and lacking the distinct and somewhat disorienting liftof entering space) but it was a small comfort to be confirmed nonetheless.

The fall of land beneath Jack's feet must have sloped then, for Miranda felt her weight shifted slightly atop her kidnapper's shoulder. After a short trek, they leveled out again and took another turn. The winds died away, and Miranda had the distinct feeling that they'd entered some sort of hall; the tight confines of walls and ceiling pushing in on them from every side. That trek was even shorter than the first, though, and before long something along their path _clicked_, and Miranda Lawson was carried inside what must have been a room of sorts. Behind them, the _click _sounded again. _The sound of my captivity. _She was lowered atop something soft a moment later and Jack set about removing her from her sheet-wrap.

When it was done, Miranda sat cushioned on all sides nestled in something comfortable, the welcome coolness of wherever they were brushing against her sweaty limbs and body, freed then from the tight hug of her cocoon. Her hands and feet and torso were still bound up tight, though, her mouth still silenced, her eyes still blind. She tugged at her binds a bit, wondering what Jack was thinking of her sitting there in nothing but her bra, panties, and a great deal of rope. The carpeting was soft beneath her bare feet. The faint sound of an air-cooling system thrummed. Otherwise, there was little to feel or hear or do. She sat, she listened, she waited.

Jack's footsteps moved from place to place, the occasional sound of something sliding or being moved accompanying her where she went. When at last her boots moved to the carpeting before the chair she'd been left in, Miranda was eager to have her blindfold removed and see, exactly, what all the commotion was about. _Where are we?_

"Are you alright?" Jack asked as her weight lowered beside Miranda. "Do the ropes hurt?"

Her wrists and ankles were a little sore, but it wasn't that bad. She shook her head.

"Do you want your gag off?"

The knot of the cloth was damp between her lips, and Miranda would have loved a drink of water to sooth her dry throat, but she didn't think she was quite ready to be permitted to talk. She liked being kept quiet. She shook her head.

"The blindfold?"

She nodded.

"Ah, there it is," Jack teased, her hand falling to Miranda's knee and squeezing. "You want to know where you are. Is that it, cheerleader?"

_Maybe I _should _have asked her to take the gag off. _Miranda grunted and twisted at her wrists. She nodded, eager for her sight to be returned to her.

"What if I keep you blindfolded until I'm ready to move you."

Miranda raised her brow. "Move me?" She tried asking, the gag mumbling her words till they were nearly incomprehensible.

"What? You didn't think I'd keep you on the Citadel, did you? This place is temporary. I have to get you somewhere more isolated… so no one can take you away from me." Jack's hand moved to her face, her fingers softly stroking at her cheek and brushing away a strand of hair. "I worked hard to get you, Miranda, I'm not giving you up without a fight. I'll take you to the edge of the galaxy if I have to to make sure you're all mine."

"_Mmm._" Miranda worked her lips around her gag. Suddenly, she wanted it removed even more so than her blindfold. She wanted to tell Jack she already _was _hers… and she wanted to kiss her; she wanted to kiss her very badly. "_Mmf. Mmmph._"

"I don't know what the fuck you're trying to say, cheerleader, but I already offered to take your muzzle off, and you chose to stay shut up, so… that's how I'm keeping you. For a while."

"_Mmm__…_"

"I'll do this for you. Be thankful for it."

And with that, Miranda's blindfold was slipped from her eyes, and light and color in all their glory returned to her in one fell swoop. She squinted, and through the narrowed drapes of her eyelashes saw beige walls, sloped and carved into a homey little room, golden domes set along the ceiling casting warm light to dapple the dark carpets and matching drapes that had been pulled shut over a solitary window. Before her bare and bound knees, a glass table floated between a ring of puffy maroon furniture, but otherwise the room was sparse and undecorated. Miranda shifted aside on the couch she'd been set in to look upon her captor. She found Jack's piercing eyes (_so dark, so pretty_) holding intently on her own. She looked to the young woman's little nose and her sharp cheekbones, her painted lips and the line of her jaw, and in that moment Miranda realized just how much she'd missed being able to look upon it all. Much like Jack's little pinches at her nipples, Miranda had grown fond of her partner's beautiful face.

"You're doing that staring shit again," Jack said. Her words came stern, but then she was dipping her head to conceal a little smile and a blush in her cheeks.

_I like making her blush, _Miranda thought as her eyes moved from Jack's red cheeks to her red lips. _And I want to kiss her. _She hummed around her gag again.

Jack watched her helplessly trying to communicate with a smirk. "Are you mad, you know, because I kidnapped you and shit?"

Miranda shook her head.

Jack looked her over. "You're dirty."

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

"I think I have to wash you." Jack slipped a little knife from an inner pocket of her pants, flipped it around in her hand with deft fingers, and cut the binds on Miranda's knees and ankles loose. Immediately, the pressure pinching them together fell away, and Miranda leaned back to graciously stretch her legs out till her feet were beneath the glass of the table. Jack took her by the shoulders and twisted her sideways to set about cutting the ropes wrapping her torso and chest. When she reached to pluck them away, her fingers—deliberately, Miranda thought—stroked the side of Miranda's breast, tugging a little at the edge of her bra till it snapped back and bit at her skin. When Jack finished, only her wrists and mouth remained in restraints. "Come on," Jack began without bothering to remove either, "you're filthy and sticky with sweat. I'm going to have to scrub your ass clean." She hooked an arm under Miranda's elbow and pulled, and Miranda was helpless but to lurch to her feet and fall in alongside her tattooed captor.

Jack kept Miranda close beside her as she marched her to the end of the room and beneath the curved arch of a shadowed hallway. At its end, a door opened on a small bathroom, and a shiver took Miranda's spine as her bare feet moved from the warm carpet to the cold tiling of its floor. The motion sensors activated and a soft yellow light painted the room gold as a strip of semi-opaque material above the sink came aglow. At the room's corner, a shower head protruded from the wall inside a glass enclosure; polished steel trim on the handles of slide-away doors. Jack went to them and slid, and when she turned back, curled a finger towards herself, beckoning Miranda forward. "Get over here, you filthy thing."

_Is she actually going to wash me? _Miranda moved forward slowly on legs that had turned to rubber. When she was close enough to grab, Jack did just that, taking her by the arm, pulling her close, and spinning her around. "Can you behave if I untie your hands, or do I have to keep you bound?" Miranda mumbled with a nod, and Jack accepted that as her promise to behave. She worked the knot loose binding Miranda's wrists. When they came free, Miranda pulled them around to her front and rubbed at the little red lines the ropes had left imprinted in her flesh. She reached for her gag, but Jack caught her wrists and tugged them back down to her sides. "Just because I freed your hands, don't think you can go grabbing whatever you want. Don't move unless I tell you to, understand?" Miranda nodded and Jack removed the gag herself, working the big knot out from between her lips carefully. When it was done, Miranda didn't dare speak a word. _She__'__ll like it if I stay quiet until she gives me permission._

Jack turned her back around, wrapped her up in a hug, and (_finally_) kissed at her lips. Miranda closed her eyes and kissed back, and the two of them stayed like that for either a minute or an hour; it was easy to lose track of time when Jack's lips were on her own. When her captor finally pulled away, Miranda wanted nothing more than to pull her close again, but made her arms stay obediently pressed to her sides. She kept her mouth shut and swallowed, waiting as patiently as she could for whatever instructions Jack gave her next.

It didn't take long. "Strip," Jack commanded, leaning back to fold her arms across her chest.

A warm flush crept along Miranda's skin. It was strange to think, but despite all the 'games' they'd played over the last month of their relationship, and all the things they'd done to one another, Jack had never actually seen her fully naked. Miranda never had need to be ashamed of her body. She had genetic engineering on her side, and on top of that, she kept fit and watched her diet. Still… it felt different with Jack. She wanted more than just Jack's approval. She wanted her girlfriend to lust after what she saw… but she wanted her to love what she saw, too. Jack began drumming her fingers impatiently along her arm, and Miranda had no choice but to angle her arms around her back, pop the hooks of her bra, and slip out of it. Instead of waiting for Jack's reaction, she made herself get the whole thing over with, tossing the bra aside and bending down to take the waistline of her panties to wiggle her hips out of them as she slid the things to her knees. She stepped out of one side and hooked the other over her toes to kick and send pooling to the floor beside her bra. Then Miranda Lawson stood straight, naked, and about as nervous than she'd ever been. The apartment's air cooling system thrummed on, cool air brushing along the tips of her breasts and down between her legs.

Jack looked her over; not in a scrutinizing way, just… a glance. And when her girlfriend's piercing eyes landed somewhere and held, it was not on Miranda's breasts or her hips or her crotch, it was her eyes, and in that moment she loved Jack a little for that too. _It__'__s me she wants, _she realized. _Not my body. Not __'__perfection__'__. Me. _Jack stepped forward, kissed her, and moved aside, gesturing her into the shower. Miranda went, turning her head a bit to hide the smile Jack had brought to her face.

A knob squeaked, a rush of liquid sounded beyond the wall, then the little glass enclosure came alive with the pattering of water raining down from the shower head to beat at the cool linoleum floor, and at Miranda Lawson's nakedness. Miranda gaped and arched her back as the water came cold, ran warm, ended hot. She tipped her head back and let the shower run lines down her hair, soaking it and sending it laying flat against her neck and shoulders. The temperature was just hot enough to steam, and soon enough the glass walls were fogging up. From beyond one, Miranda saw Jack moving before the big mirror at the end of the bathroom. Jack slipped her chest harness from her neck and shoulders and worked her way out of it. Miranda watched her, the soft golden glow of the light splashing across her girlfriend's body, accentuating her backbones and muscles as they worked. Jack stepped out of her boots, squirmed her hips around as she tugged at her pants, then stood clad only in panties before the mirror; her legs long and darkened with all the artwork of her ink. By the time she removed her panties, the shower walls were nothing more than three blurry panes of steamed glass, but Miranda could still see the hazy figure of Jack's ass as she looked herself over in the mirror. _She__'__s as nervous as I was. I__'__ve never seen her naked either._

Jack returned to her, slipping inside the shower's sliding doors and closing them up behind her, sealing the two of them inside. The steam lay thick over every inch of the enclosure then, and as Jack stalked forth, grey tendrils of it hugged to her breasts and hips, turning her into some Goddess floating through rain and fog. Her hands moved around Miranda's waist and tugged until she came forward. Her breasts, small and perky, pressed against Miranda's own as she squeezed herself close and kissed again. Miranda's eyes fell shut, and when Jack pulled away to kiss at her neck and collarbone, she leaned her head back and welcomed the hot water's gentle trickle atop her brow. Somewhere in the steam, her girlfriend was kissing lower, at her breasts and at her nipples, then at her stomach and her hipbones. Then Jack was moving lower and Miranda gasped when her thighs were pulled to widen her stance and Jack kissed her between the legs.

Miranda had resolved to remain quiet until Jack gave her permission to speak, but when the young woman's mouth closed around her clit and gave a little suck, there was no stopping her mouth from uttering, "_Oh, Jack,_", as she reached for the walls to support herself. Jack lifted out of the steam, water clinging to her breasts and dripping from her nipples like twin waterfalls, and kissed her neck again. "Turn around, cheerleader," she said, and Miranda obeyed. Jack took a handful of liquid soap and rubbed it between her palms. When they were sufficiently lathered, she reached for Miranda's hair and rubbed her fingers deep into her scalp. Miranda was unable to stop a moan slipping her lips as Jack washed her hair, got more soap, moved to her neck and shoulders, and massaged deep circles into her muscles as she thickly lathered every inch of her. Jack moved lower, her arms reaching around Miranda's sides to work the soap over her breasts and down her tummy. She lathered her waist and her thighs and slid her fingers around to squeeze at Miranda's ass. When she'd soaped up her legs and knees and calves and feet, she turned Miranda around, leaned close, and slid her soapy fingers in between her legs. Miranda moaned again, twice as loud as before, as Jack lathered her _there _too.

When it was done, Jack soaped herself up quickly—Miranda helpless but to stare as the young woman's hands rubbed at her breasts and her ass—took Miranda by the arm, and led them further beneath the shower head so that the water could rinse them clean. As it did, soapy pools forming at their feet and slipping between their toes, Jack started kissing her again like she did before, starting at her lips and moving down her neck and chest and stomach. This time, Miranda watched her shaved head fall between her legs as Jack lowered to her knees and made her widen her stance again. Jack kissed at her labia, from bottom to top, and when her lips found Miranda's clit, they closed around it again and sucked. Her mouth was so warm, Miranda could only squeeze her eyes shut and moan as a pleasurable wave coursed through her body, sending her limbs trembling. Then Jack's tongue slipped inside her, and Miranda nearly fell.

"Jack, I can't," she said breathlessly. "I can't…stand while… you're-" Jack's mouth found her clit again, and this time when she took it between her lips, a little lash of her tongue flicked against Miranda. "_Jack! Oh!_" Miranda leaned back against the wall of the shower and pressed her head back hard against it. When Jack did not relent and went on mercilessly sucking and kissing at her clit, Miranda's hands reached for her hair and took fistfuls, fell, groped at her own breasts, fell further and took Jack's head between them. She slid down further against the wall, heaving labored breaths that seemed impossibly heavy to pull. "_Jack__… __Jack__…_" She couldn't think to say anything more; her mind had gone numb. Jack's tongue was lashing her again, her warm lips closing up and down around the sensitive skin around her clit. Miranda moaned and moaned and then moaned some more, squeezing her fingers against Jack's head, hating her, loving her, wanting her to stop, wanting her to _never _stop. She was on the verge of collapsing. Her heart was a wardrum, beating blood into her head and down between her legs. The water rained over her, blinding her, filling her mouth, but Miranda could no long turn her head; she'd lost all function other than moaning and squeezing Jack's head as the woman sucked and licked and sucked some more. Everything faded into a blurry haze, like the steam of the shower spreading out to permeate every last bit of space in the world, then it all came into sudden, sharp, clarity as Jack worked her into focus, and into orgasm. Her heel slipped on the slick linoleum, and Miranda would have fallen if Jack hadn't been there to catch her and support her weight. She was barely aware of that, though, barely aware of _any_thing, really, other than the waves of pleasure blossoming up from between her legs and numbing her limbs and fingers and toes and tensing every muscle she had before loosening them all again at once. She moaned so loudly, Jack had to cover her mouth up, but Miranda simply squeezed her eyes shut and went on moaning against her girlfriend's hand. There was nothing else that mattered then but her orgasm, and the fact that Jack was beside her. Somehow, through the paralyzation of her orgasm, she worked her mouth from under Jack's hand and kissed her.

When it was over, Jack had her in her arms again. Miranda wasn't even sure how or when that had happened, but it had. She opened her eyes to find Jack cradling her naked, dripping body against her own, carrying her from the bathroom. "_Jack__…_" she croaked, but wasn't sure why. Her hand came up limply to her girlfriend's face, her fingers stroking at her cheek. Jack carried her into the apartment's bedroom, set her briefly atop the carpet to dry her a bit with a towel, then lowered her into bed. Miranda went without struggle, and when Jack dried herself off and came climbing in shortly after, neither of them said a word as Jack draped them in covers and her arms came closing around Miranda's waist, turning her on her side to spoon and to hold. Jack kissed the back of her neck. Miranda smiled. And before long, she drifted to the deepest and best sleep she'd had since she was a teenaged girl.

* * *

She dreamed of a great Goddess in a forest of rain and fog, tattooed and beautiful, coming forth naked to scoop her up and take her away from all her worries to a place where the only thing that mattered was one another.

Later, when Miranda awoke, there was one thing she was undeniably certain of, and she turned around in bed at once to let her girlfriend know.

"_Jack_," she whispered in the dark, kissing at the sleeping woman's brow. "_I'm in love with you._"


End file.
